


Secretly

by harshmorninglight



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Dark Hargreeves, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Intercrural Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non Consensual Sex Work, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Pornography, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Twists, Public Hand Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Work, Sexist Language, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, Voyeurism, crime elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-14 23:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harshmorninglight/pseuds/harshmorninglight
Summary: Crime lord Reginald Hargreeves chooses his family depending on their worth to him. The underground club is his masterwork: a den of vice for the wealthiest in the city to indulge their darkest desires.Diego is a cage fighter. He's good at his job, and he's even better at ignoring the horrors that go on around him.But then he meets Klaus, and everything changes.





	1. Under The City

**Author's Note:**

> I was wanting to write a one shot inspired by the deliciously dark Diego fics that I've been adoring recently (shoutout to [Morgue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172031?view_full_work=true) and [Red Right Hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249074?view_full_work=true)!) but then I kind of got lost down a rabbit hole of semi-dark Diego and VERY dark Reginald. So, sorry about that! If people enjoy this, I'll continue to write more, but I'm going to try and finish it in no more than 3 or 4 parts because I'm not really about that multi chapter life. Comments are always massively welcome, for those brave souls that made it past the tags. I'm turning on comment moderation for this and turning off anon comments, because anxiety is a bitch. Please don't be discouraged by the comment moderation: I promise I will see it and publish it if it isn't just outright hate.
> 
> The Hargreeves are not the same age in this; you'll get a sense of their age as you read, but Diego is definitely older than Klaus. They refer to themselves as siblings because of the importance Reginald places on 'family', but for the most part they weren't brought up together as children. Therefore I'm not labeling this as even faux-incest.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think. If there are any scenarios you'd like to see going forward, don't be shy! I'm very open to any sexual scenarios involving bottom Klaus. I do have an overall plot arc in mind but nothing rigid at this point in time. And ofc just let me know if you don't want me to publish your comment .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hargreeves family gains a new member, and Diego is intrigued, to say the least.

The club doesn’t have a name, or at least it’s not supposed to. Diego has heard a couple of regulars refer to it as Constantinople, an oh-so-clever reference to the fact that it doesn’t technically exist. It’s there, but it’s not, and it lives and dies by the secrets it keeps.

It’s an underground club, literally: a club in the dark underbelly of the city. You’d probably need a map to find it the first few times. You’d definitely need someone who has been there before to show you how to get past the fake-out tunnels that lead to sewer gates and dead ends and, on one particularly memorable occasion, after Diego had had a few too many neat whiskeys, a living, breathing rat colony that had fueled his nightmares for weeks to come.

It’s Diego’s home, or the closest he’s ever had to a home. And Reginald likes that. Likes being called _Father_ by the street scum he’s raised up. One big _familia feliz_.

“Are you listening, Diego?” Five asks him. Diego is doing chin-ups in the training room that’s reserved for Reginald’s prize fighters. Obviously that never stops Five from entering, because Five gets into _everything_. “Father is pissed. He’s put a hit out on her. _I’m_ the hitter.”

Diego grunts, biceps flaring out as he pulls up, chin a good few inches above the bar. “Let’s hope she knows how to hide, then.”

He doesn’t care about Vanya, at least not enough to break his training schedule. If he’d been born into another body - a smaller, sweeter body with a pretty face and an innocent expression - if he’d been in her position, at the mercies of the animalistic men who come to feast on the sight of willing whores as far as the eye could see, he’d have run too, eventually.

He didn’t think much about Vanya when she was here, but her running confirms his suspicions. She was smarter than the average slut.

“You know I could find her,” Five scoffs. He lowers his voice, a trained habit, because Reginald has eyes and ears everywhere. “It’s just… I kind of liked her. I’m not sure I want to kill her.”

Yep, the bitch was _definitely_ smart, if she’d somehow managed to get Five sweet on her. “Then don’t. Or find her, but make her disappear more effectively. You can afford it. Where’d she come from? Poland? Russia? Buy her a one way ticket and, _immm_...” he grits out, wishing Five would leave him alone, because these chin-ups are becoming harder with each word he utters, “... _press_ upon her the fact that she can never come back to America.”

“Father has eyes and ears everywhere. You know that.”

Diego finally lets himself down, his bare feet hitting the linoleum with a dull _thunk._ “Then let’s hope she’s got a… what’s that shit Harry Potter wore? A jacket of invisibility.”

“It was a _cloak_ , knucklehead.”

“You’re a fucking geek for knowing that.”

“He’s already got a new dancer lined up, by the way. Apparently there’s an issue with the whore’s dad, and he wants me to go and deal with that too.” Five rolls his eyes to imply he’s _extremely_ burdened in his role of Reginald’s chief whip, but Diego knows that he’s bluffing. Five may as well be a robot, totally committed to his job.

“Haven’t we got enough?” Diego asks as he mops the back of his neck with a greying towel. He doesn’t really see the big deal. The club’s strength, at least when it comes to its whores, is its appeal to all different types of perverts: those that want their whores experienced, those that want them inexperienced, those that want them young, those who like them older, those who are after big tits or small tits or curves or flesh stretched over ribs. There are boys and girls and some that aren’t either, and Diego has lost count of the number he’s fucked, he’s had so many of them. But for some reason there’s always one that’s _special_ , who Reginald gives extra attention to, who is marked up on price and dangled to the richer punters as the ultimate temptation.

It _was_ Vanya, and now Vanya is gone and there’s a litany of pretty whores that Reginald could raise up. Going after one with an actual _family_ seems to be asking for trouble.

“This one is going to make indecent amounts of money, according to father. I don’t think he’s ever been so excited.”

“High praise indeed. So why is he so pissed about Vanya, if he already had her replacement lined up?”

“It’s a matter of pride. Vanya fucked him over. Nobody fucks over Reginald Hargreeves.”

It’s true. It’s not like the club is a life sentence for everyone: there are plenty who come through for a few months, who invest precisely as much loyalty in the club as Reginald’s money invests in them, and who go on to create a better life for themselves elsewhere once the customers have had their pound of flesh. But Reginald has his favourites; the ones who call him father, who he trains to more exacting specifications. Vanya was one of them, practically a sister to Reginald’s favoured five children, and now she’s gone, and it doesn’t matter how good her reasons were for leaving. He’ll have taken it personally.

“Well let’s hope the new girl is easier to scare into submission,” Diego surmises, hoping to bring this conversation to a close so he can start on the punching bag. Five smiles abstractly at him.

“What makes you think it’s a girl?”

 

\---

 

“What’s up, Allison?” Diego asks. She’s looking a little rattled, her pretty face curled in suspicion as he approaches. “Difficulty with the _clientele_?”

“Please,” she scoffs, “When have you ever known me to have difficulties with our scumbag customers?”

He grins wolfishly at her, conceding. Some people see it as a novelty, a female bouncer to the most notorious club in the city, but Allison is the toughest person he knows, and even if she wasn’t, she has a strangely persuasive way of talking others into getting what she wants. “So what’s eating you?” he probes, and her eyes dart around before she leans forward.

“Those goons, Hazel and Cha-Cha, just frogmarched in Vanya’s replacement. Because it’s that easy, right? Here one day, forgotten the next.” She shakes her head, clearly pissed, and Diego almost gets it: Allison and Vanya were close, which was dumb, in his opinion, because this isn’t the kind of life where you can afford a frivolous thing like closeness. But he’s sure it must suck, losing someone you love. “Also... “ Allison continues, sighing a little. “He was young. Younger than Vanya, I think. I know we joke about the barely legal sex workers here but this one was sixteen, seventeen at most. I think father has lost his damn mind.”

“He’s got a family, too,” Diego shares; it’s been a couple of weeks since he last spoke to Five about it, but he’s heard whispers about the boy’s father being difficult, about demanding more money before he agreed to give his son over to Reginald’s ownership.

It makes a change to the whores who don’t have a family, or at least a family who cares, but something about it sits uneasy with Diego. He thinks maybe it would be worse to know that your father not only didn’t give a shit about you, but was actively profiteering from not giving a shit.

“So, a jailbait dancer with family connections... what, in the city?” Allison guesses. Diego nods. “What could go wrong?” she asks sarcastically. “Anyway, father said that he wants us to meet tonight, after your fight. Inner circle only.”

“Fuck, and there I was thinking I had the night off from Luther,” Diego groans. Allison shoots him a reproachful glare and Diego remembers: _oh yeah, they still have that weird thing going on_. “Just kidding, you know I love my number one bro.”

She dismisses him with a hand wave and he gladly takes the opportunity, heading up to his dressing room to get ready for tonight’s fight. It isn’t against Luther -  at least he’s been spared that much - but father has asked him to throw it, which means the two week old split lip he’s been recovering from will soon be back open, and his skin will be several more shades of black and blue.

He isn’t looking forward to it.

He likes the quiet before a match, and he stretches out on his chair, energy drink in hand as he focuses on his breathing. It never gets easier, really; he loves the thrill of cage fighting but the nerves are there almost constantly, and they make him bad tempered, aggressive. _Badly wired_ , Five had called him once. Unlike the golden boy, Luther, who doesn’t seem to get rattled by cage fighting, Diego is a tightly wound coil of ill-temper.

He can hear noise start to seep through the grimy walls of his changing room, and with it comes the awareness that he has about thirty minutes until showtime. Heaving himself out of his chair, he works ritualistically through his stretches; he won’t be doing anything impressive tonight but he needs to keep his body loose in order to make the numerous impacts with the sides of the cage less painful.

He’s halfway through his shoulder routine when the door flies open and a whirl of pale skin and dark, bouncy curls flies past him. “I have to hide!” the same whirl of pale skin and dark curls whispers urgently, and Diego has just about enough time to compose himself when he’s faced with a harassed Cha-Cha, sticking her head round the door with wild eyes.

“Heard of knocking?!” he growls, and Cha-Cha growls right back at him, nonplussed.

“Did you happen to see a wayward whore running through here?” she asks. He shrugs, steadfastly _not_ looking to the kid’s hiding place behind the beaten up sofa that Diego never uses, unless he’s fucking someone on it. “Fuck my actual life!” she curses, and leaves just as quickly as she came.

Diego makes sure the door is firmly closed, and locked, and then moves over to the sofa. Peering down the back of it, he sees an elfin face staring back up at him, all wide green eyes and high cheekbones and full lips that are currently being bitten into anxiously.

Diego has to hand it to old Reggie: he’s picked a pretty one.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks.

“Is it safe?”

“No,” Diego says warningly, and the boy’s face pales as he takes in Diego’s impressive form. “So you better start talking, otherwise I’ll be getting in some pre-match practice on your skinny ass.” He lunges forward suddenly, grabbing an arm and hauling him over to the front of the sofa in one easy gesture. The boy is all limbs; he stumbles slightly before sinking onto the cushion behind him. “Come on, Bambi, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“That lady called me a whore! I _politely_ pointed out that I’m not a whore, because I’ve never been paid for sex, and she slapped me round the face. Then the other guy, the big one, yelled at her and said she shouldn’t damage the merchandise, and they got so distracted with arguing that I figured… why not explore a little? Well, they didn’t like that, and now I’m officially a fugitive.”

Diego blinks a couple of times, trying to keep up. “So you just barged into the first room you saw? _My_ room?”

The boy has the decency to look a little sheepish. “I didn’t know there was anyone in here.”

“You know, usually when a pretty whore finds their way into my room, they’d generally be bent over something by now.”

That gets the desired reaction: the kid quavers a little, before he shakes his head, curls flopping into his eyes.

“I’m not a whore!”

“That’s exactly what you are,” Diego says, words slow as if explaining it to an idiot, which he’s not so sure this kid isn’t. “Why else did you think you’d been brought here?”

“I-” the boy swallows, suddenly nervous. “My dad said that I just had to trust him. That nothing bad would happen if I was good.”

“Fuck, the son of a bitch didn’t even tell you he was selling you?” Diego laughs darkly and the boy’s cheeks drain of color. “Daddy sold you, baby boy, to Reginald Hargreeves. You’ve heard of him? The most powerful man in the city?”

“He’s my dad’s friend. Has been for years. I’ve seen him a few times, he comes over for drinks.”

Up close, he sees Allison’s assessment is right: the boy is no more than 16, 17 at an absolute push. He’s fucking pretty with it; Reginald’s eye for a prize whore remains as strong as ever, and Diego would probably… _okay_... one hundred percent fuck this little slut sideways if he spotted him working a pole. But something feels off, and Diego does the math: if Reginald has been the dad’s drinking buddy for years, that means he’s been sizing this one up for the club ever since he was a child.

It’s not a great thought, and Diego hopes he’s wrong, hopes this kid was an ugly duckling who miraculously blossomed, like, a few weeks ago.

 _You’re getting in your head_ , he scolds himself. _Get the fuck out of it._

“Look, Reginald is my father,” _Kind of_ , “and I’d advise you not to piss him off. He likes well behaved whores. You’re so young, he’ll probably grant you a bit of leniency at first, but you don’t wanna waste it as he expects you to learn quickly. I suggest you get back out there, Bambi, go and find the nice lady that slapped you round the face, and beg her forgiveness. Hazel, the other guy, is a bit more of a soft touch. Try crying. They might not let Reg know.”

The boy nods, taking it in, and Diego’s stomach twists a little at the boy’s innocent trust in him. It’s something he’s never experienced with a whore before. Vanya had been eighteen when she’d first arrived, so not much older than this one, but at least she’d known what she was coming to do. _This_ kid is acting like it’s some quirky day out, and Diego has to harden himself to that thought, because it surely isn’t going to lead to anywhere good.

He looks down to see the kid holding out a small hand. “I’m Klaus, by the way.” He falters when Diego stares at the attempted handshake as though it’s a foreign gesture he’s never seen before. Diego knows exactly what it is, but the kid may as well start learning now.

“Yeah, that’s not something you’re going to need to do around here,” he says. He grips the back of Klaus’s neck, lifts his chin up with the other hand. “If I tongue fucked you, that would be more appropriate.”

Klaus goes very still, his expression shifting in less than a second to something resembling terrified confusion, and Diego chuckles, pushing him away. “Fortunately for you, I need to get ready for my fight. So. Scram.”

He guides Klaus over to the door, one hand on the small of his back as he unlocks it. Klaus blinks up at him, biting his lip again, before stepping out nervously.

“Will she hit me again?” Klaus asks. “The one that’s mad with me?”

“Probably. But Hazel is right. She shouldn’t be touching your face. Your face is your money maker.”

“I’m not a whore,” Klaus says again, stubbornly.

Diego shuts the door in the kid’s face and goes back to shoulder stretches.

 

\---

 

They meet later in Reginald’s reception room: all of them are assembled by the time Diego has stitched the worst of his face up and jumped in and out of the shower. He’s still dragging a towel through his hair when he gets there, sinking down next to Allison and Ben.

“Nice of you to join us so promptly,” Luther says sarcastically, and Grace hushes him.

“Your brother had an important match earlier, Luther. Reginald was aware he’d be a little late.”

“Indeed,” Reginald says testily, “Though I _had_ expected you within the hour, Diego.”

“Sorry, father, my injuries were a bit more serious than usual.”

Reginald looks distinctly unimpressed. “I trust the match was… convincing?”

Diego bears a missing front tooth in response. Luther makes a disgusted noise as Ben and Five muffle their laughter.

“Goodness!” Grace says, alarmed. “I’ll call the dentist in tomorrow.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“So why are we here?” Allison asks sharply. She’s become more impatient since Vanya took off; Diego knows that she blames Reginald for pushing her too hard, and it’s beginning to creep into her tone when she speaks to their father. Reginald stiffens slightly, clearly noting her insolence, but his mind seems to be set on something else for now, and Diego can practically see him filing the indiscretion away for another time. Allison falls silent, her cheeks flushed a little. Reginald is probably the one person capable of intimidating her.

“I wanted to bring you all together so you could meet the newest member of our family. Grace, would you go and collect Klaus?”

Diego decides to stay mute on the fact that he’s already met the kid, and the circumstances it was under. He’s sure Klaus will have a rich future of ‘correctional training’ from Reginald; no point adding to it now. Weirdly, he finds himself chewing at his cuticles nervously when Grace comes back with Klaus’s hand in hers. He takes in the kid’s form: he’s changed from jeans and t-shirt into a white nightdress that exposes a small length of creamy thighs. Dragging his eyes away, he sees Luther raise his eyebrows, a little impressed, and Five staring at him ferally. Even Ben and Allison look transfixed.

Something like annoyance alights in his stomach and he coughs loudly to break the silence.

“Ah, Klaus, come and sit here,” Reginald says, patting the arm of his chair, and Klaus pads over on bare feet, looking a little sleepy; Grace has most likely just woken him up. “I wanted you to meet your brothers and sister.”

Klaus catches Diego’s eye and then opens his mouth. For a second, Diego is worried he’ll make a smart alec comment about how they’d already met, but when Diego shakes his head imperceptibly, he closes it quickly.

“Would you like to say hello, Klaus?” Grace invites him kindly, and Klaus looks around at all of them, green eyes flashing, before saying resolutely, “I want to go home.”

None of them quite know how to respond to that, and they all look to Reginald, curious to witness his next move. But the old man is silent; he simply levels Grace with a cold look, and she takes Klaus’s hands in hers, “This is your home now, baby. We’ve discussed this.”

If Diego didn’t know any better, he’d say that she sounds a little nervous.

“The whore seems to be confused,” Five says drolly. “What part of ‘we’ve paid your father an obscene amount of money to acquire you’ don’t you understand?”

“Five, that’s enough!” Grace snaps at him. Klaus is looking around fearfully; when his gaze meets Diego’s again, he blinks back a few tears.

“I didn’t ask to be sold! I didn’t consent!” the kid says. He doesn’t break eye contact with Diego. “You can’t keep me here, it’s illegal.” He snatches his hands back from Grace and stands up, reversing into the wall behind him. Reginald remains upright in his chair, hands folded calmly in his lap, as Luther stands up to offer some backup.

“Sit your ass down, you disrespectful piece of shit!” he growls. At his full height, body tense, he’s a pretty scary sight, and Klaus whimpers a little as he strides towards him.

“Please, help me,” Klaus gasps, staring at Grace, then Diego. Grace tries to hush him as Diego rolls his eyes at Luther.

“Hey, big guy, I’m pretty sure mom can handle him. He’s 110 lbs soaking wet.”

But Luther ignores Diego as usual, wrapping a mighty paw around Klaus’s upper arm, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, before throwing the kid down at Reginald’s feet.

“Stay there,” he growls, and Klaus sobs a little, pulling his ridiculous little nightdress down where it’s ridden up over his thighs. Diego crosses his legs, trying to ignore his hardening cock. _For fucks sake_ , he tells himself, _this is_ not _the time_.

“Thank you, Luther. It seems the whore needs some training, which is perhaps to be expected.” Reginald fixes Klaus with cold, shark-like eyes and smiles, though to Diego’s mind it’s more like a grimace. “It seems he’s under the mistaken impression that _the law_ can protect him. I assume his previous father didn’t make it absolutely transparent, so as his new father, the task has fallen to me.”

Diego watches as the others get comfortable in their seats: they’ve all heard iterations of this speech many times before.

“Let me re-introduce myself, Klaus. I am Sir Reginald Hargreeves, a knighted philanthropist. I have funded plentiful food reserves in the slums of Nicaragua, increased employment in the projects of New York, built clean water wells in more African countries than I can count on both my hands and feet. My reputation is impeachable. Do you know what that allows me to do, boy?”

Klaus looks terrified: he gives a tiny shake of his head.

“I have greased the palms of politicians from here to Mexico. I hold the police in my hands; I rule this city, the city does not rule me. Do you see Diego over there?” Diego sits up quickly, confused, until Reginald says, “He is fucking the chief commissioner, Ms Eudora Patch, and has a litany of blackmail he can use against her at any given point, should she choose to become non compliant.”

Klaus gapes at him, and Diego shrugs a little. Reginald isn’t lying.

“I could walk into city hall, shoot dead five officers of the law, and I would still be found innocent beyond any reasonable doubt. There is no judge or jury in the United States of America that would be willing to find me guilty, even if it got that far, because there is no police officer that would dare to arrest me.” Reginald leans forward now, gripping Klaus’s chin and pulling it up so that Klaus is facing him entirely. “You, boy, have been marked for one purpose, and one purpose alone. To give pleasure to real men in whichever way I see fit. If you attempt to escape, you will be found, you will be punished, and you will be killed at exactly the same time you become unattractive to me. If you are compliant, amenable, you will be treated as a member of my family. You will be given beautiful clothes, makeup, whatever your empty little head desires, and I will call you my son and love you as one.”

Diego suppresses a shudder when he sees Reginald lean forward, thin lips brushing against Klaus’s trembling mouth. He looks over at Allison then, and sees her own horrified expression. Reginald usually keeps the whores at arm’s length; even Vanya, who he had called daughter, was largely left to Grace’s care.

 _He’s known him since he was a child_ , Diego thinks. He rubs a hand over his face, his throat contracting violently of its own volition..

Klaus, for his part, is silent and still now, as though the overload of information he has just received has closed a part of his brain off indefinitely.

“Grace, I think the boy has had more than enough excitement tonight. Perhaps you could put him to bed?” Reginald requests, and Grace swoops Klaus into her arms immediately, leading him out. Diego can see his hand squeezing hers, almost as though he’s afraid she’ll let go.

“Now,” Reginald says with a benevolent smile once they’ve departed, “I’d like to discuss a little fundraising endeavor that came to mind earlier. The whore’s father has assured me that the boy is untouched, completely and utterly. I know many men who would pay top dollar to be the first inside of him.”

 _Fuck_ , Diego thinks. _Fuck fuck fuck._

“Father, that’s brilliant,” Luther says automatically. Reginald smiles at him, nodding.

“I thought so. One auction for his mouth, perhaps, and then, later, one for his virginity. I would like to ensure this goes according to plan, so Five, I trust you will monitor his ongoing... _cleanliness_?”

Five nods, giving nothing of his emotions away. “Of course.”

 _Don’t ask me to be part of this_ , Diego begs silently. _You sick son of a bitch_.

Thankfully, Reginald seems to require nothing more from his children, and his tone changes again, into something resembling excitement.

“Marvelous! I will call up some of our wealthier supporters and get the gossip mill turning, then.”

Diego has never seen Reginald look so delighted with himself. He feels like if he sits here any longer he’s going to scream. He stands up abruptly, clutching his temple.

“Need to sleep,” he grunts, and his father takes in his haggard appearence before nodding.

“Very well. Good night, son.”

Diego is almost through the door when Reginald calls out, “Oh, and... Diego? I know you have a… _weakness_ … shall we say, for our prettier whores, and they for you, but I’m sure you understand that this one is off limits for now. Yes?”

He nods weakly, Luther and Five’s chuckles echoing in his ears as he escapes the room.

Diego goes above ground to sleep; Reginald owns many apartments but Diego feels most at home in a run-down boxing gym with small shafts of light creeping into the windows in the morning, gently waking him.

He stays up all night, waiting for them to appear, but when they do, they’re of no real comfort.  
  
  



	2. Under The Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family have dinner, and Reginald drops another bombshell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely comments on the first chapter, it inspired me to get this out a lot quicker than I usually manage!
> 
> I would just like to say... this fic is kind of cracky. The kind of fics I like to write tend to be quite cracky in general. Not over the top crack, hopefully, but it's definitely meant to be treated a bit ridiculously by the reader. Like, these are all terrible people doing terrible things. Hopefully you can still enjoy reading about them and find parallels to canon, and find the smut and sexual tension hot, but I'm well aware I'm writing Diego and the rest of the the Hargreeves pretty reprehensibly, and that's part of the fun for me. I'm never quite sure if I'm conveying this properly in fic, and I don't want people to think I'm in any way condoning the abuse that's going on just because I'm not treating it as ultra serious. With that said, I am weak for Kliego sweetness, so it will come at some point I promise!
> 
> So, yeah. Read the tags, treat the back button as your safe word, and remember we're here for a good time, not a long time.
> 
> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, please enjoy, and leave feedback if you feel so inclined. <3

He doesn’t see Klaus for weeks. The boy has been hidden away like secret text chiseled into the depths of a priceless artifact. All that seems to be left of him are whispers. Whispers from the other whores, mainly, who are territorial at the best of times and are now thoroughly rattled at the thought of another usurper affecting their hard earned profit margin so soon after Vanya's departure.

“I’ll take this bitch’s virginity myself if it means getting the johns back to business,” he hears one tell her furiously nodding colleague. “Fucking peg him until he can’t fucking walk anymore.”

There are other whispers, too, that worry Diego more. The rich men of the city, in their suits and cravats, huddling in darkened rooms, their laughter more anticipatory than usual. Whispers from the other fighters about the new whore’s odds being introduced into the betting rings that circulate down here.

The only people that don’t seem to be whispering are the Hargreeves themselves. Diego can’t bring Klaus up to them without looking suspicious, and they in turn don’t talk about Klaus to him. It’s more than enough to drive him mad.

One day, though, he gets a reprieve. Five seeks him out at home, on a rare night off, already somehow inside the locked up boxing gym when Diego gets back from a booty call with Eudora. He’s lounging insouciantly on a pile of cushions that form a makeshift sofa, and Diego bites his tongue because there’s literally no point asking his younger brother how he got in: there will never be an answer.

“The whore is behaving himself, finally,” Five tells him. “Father is so pleased that he’s taking us all out to dinner tonight. Karpatia. Your presence is expected.”

Diego stares at him blankly. “Tonight?”

“You’ve got somewhere more important to be?”

That wasn’t what Diego had meant: he’s simply struck sideways by the the thought that it’s been weeks since he’s seen Klaus, even heard about him, and soon enough he’ll have enough time to drink in every detail of him: to watch him eat, talk, to be aware of lustful eyes on him from across a candlelit table. It’ll practically be a date. Diego bites down a smile of anticipation.

“No. I’ll be there,” he replies. “When have I ever turned down a fancy dinner?”

“I’m thinking that the fancy dinner isn’t the main sell for you here.”

Diego turns away from him in response, heading over to the rail he calls a closet. “I’ll see you there, little bro.”

“Nine o’clock sharp,” Five tells him, and Diego hears his footsteps retreating.

When he’s on his own, massaging shampoo roughly into his scalp in the showers, he considers jacking off, but a daring thought crosses his mind and he decides he wants to be hard throughout the meal.  He might have unloaded in Eudora earlier (well, into a condom, because she’s a killjoy like that), but his balls are always ready for more, and he knows it will be the best kind of exquisite torture.

He shaves and trims his beard, tidy and clean like Reginald insists on for formal meals, and then finds his only tux, zipping the trousers up over his straining cock. He knows he looks good; the whores at the club frequently tell him so, but unlike the decrepit old boys who pay handsomely for their services, they actually seem to mean it with him, and don’t charge him at all.

Not that he trusts whores, as a general rule. But... when they’re right, they’re right.

 

\---

Karpatia is a ten minute walk through the scummy inner city, to the expensive end, and Diego manages it in five. For once, he thinks he might actually be the earliest, but when he gets there he sees that Allison and Luther have already arrived, hands clasped across the table, until they see him approaching and pull away.

“Luckily I wasn’t father,” he says, sitting at the opposite end to Luther, who narrows his eyes at him.

“Tell him and you’re dead.”

“Oh no, how will I live with the crippling fear of your threat hanging over me?” he asks, hands raised to his cheeks in mock horror. Luther grunts, annoyed, and Diego takes advantage of his irritation to lean over to his side of the table in order to steal a breadstick.

“You really are a child,” Allison scolds him, but there’s no malice behind it.

The conversation closes down just as quickly as it begun. Diego can talk to Allison for a decent amount of time without wanting to wring her neck, but he can’t say the same for Luther, who is glowering at him anyway, clearly not in the mood for small talk. Therefore it’s a relief when Ben arrives, looking delighted at having a rare night off from cooking the books. Not that the books ever need to be cooked, because no authority ever looks at them, but Reginald is fastidious about incomings and outgoings, and Ben is the poor schmuck who happened to be top of his university class in accountancy when Reginald made him an offer he couldn't refuse.

Still, Ben is a puppy dog, never capturing Reginald’s attention apart from the occasional smidgeon of praise, and he and Grace are the only true neutral ground within their family.

“This is weird, right?” Diego asks, voice lowered, as Allison and Luther take advantage of Ben’s arrival to branch off their conversation again. “Why did the kid suddenly start behaving?”

“Apparently father has been giving him some _special_ training,” Ben says with a shudder. “But I have no real idea what that entails. You?”

“I haven’t seen him since that first night.”

“I have. Well, here and there. Mom sometimes leaves him with me in my office when she’s hostessing.”

Diego feels a stab of jealousy at that, even though Ben is utterly harmless. “So you’d know better than me,” he points out. Ben shrugs.

“He talks about everything other than the situation he’s found himself in, so I know literally _tons_ about him other than how he’s adjusting here. Honestly, he’s a bit exhausting. I got father’s permission to gag him the other day.”

Diego scoffs in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. My work is important. Anyway, the most relevant thing I’ve found out is, in addition to whatever father's done to him, he’s also been put on a strict dance training schedule. Apparently he’s got two left feet. Maybe that, and father’s corrections, have finally worn him out?”

“Maybe,” Diego says distractedly, thoughts shifting from Klaus in a gag to Klaus in stripper heels and sheer panties, clumsily navigating a pole. His cock pulses and he raises his eyes to the heavens in frustration. Perhaps he _should_ have jacked off while he had the chance. “I mean, he’s just a kid, so it was probably inevitable.”

“True. Anyway, if we get a free meal out of it, who am I to question the situation?”

A waiter has just brought glasses of Palinka over to the table: Diego holds his crystal tumblr up and clinks with Ben. “Cheers to that.”

He’s on his second one by the time the rest of the family arrive - Reginald in front, in a sweeping suit and heavy cape, Grace and Klaus hand and hand behind him, and Five bringing up the rear like the world’s most fucked off bodyguard.

It isn’t until Reginald moves to one side that Diego can fully drink in the sight of the whore, and _fuck_ , he’s hungry for him. The waiter takes Klaus’s embroidered jacket from him, and all Diego can see is long legs, before he forces his eyes up further to a flared out velvet dress, stocking tops peeking out from underneath. His curls are a little longer, skin brighter and eyes more alert: he’s been looked after well, and Diego imagines his tongue in between those luscious pale thighs, hands bunching up the sides of the flimsy skirt.

He’s surprised when Klaus makes a bee line for him, or maybe it’s for Ben, but there’s only a seat left on one side of Diego, and the kid sits in it quickly, wide eyes looking to Reginald in a silent plea. Diego watches as their father gives a curt nod, allowing him this small concession. It’s what makes Reginald so good at control - the psychology behind it. The more you struggle, the tighter his grip becomes. When you’re ‘good’, passive, he gives you rights. Diego learnt all of this a long time ago. Maybe the kid has worked it out too.

And Diego isn’t going to complain, even though the temptation of those long legs next to him all night is going to make the next two hours _very_  difficult indeed.

With the hubbub of his family taking their seats and greeting one another, he has enough time to lean back, as if stretching, and then shift over to Klaus, knowing his deep voice will sink into the shell of his ear. “You look good, Bambi. Like a real cute little slut.”

Klaus edges away, trying to ignore him.

“And Diego,” Reginald says, turning his attention from Luther to him, “Enjoying your night off?”

“I am now,” Diego says, beaming. Grace clasps her hands together in delight and Reginald looks between Klaus and Diego, as if weighing up whether he was remiss to let them sit next to one other. He seems to come to the conclusion that not much can happen across a dinner table, and gives a curt nod.

“Excellent. Now, where’s the waiter? I’m dry here.”

The waiter, who has been nervously hovering at a respectable difference, hurries over, pouring him a dry wine aperitif, moving to Grace and then Allison next, before heading to Klaus. “None for this one,” Diego says, covering the top of Klaus’s glass with his hand as Klaus struggles to get it out from under his grip. Klaus glares at him, and the waiter, a little flummoxed, asks what he’d like instead.

“How about a delicious grapefruit juice, baby?” Grace asks him. Klaus makes a face.

“Can I have cola?”

“Better make that a cherry cola,” Five says, causing Ben and Diego to choke back laughter, and Klaus to blush fiercely. The waiter, at this point clearly creeped out, finishes pouring wine for the men before hurrying off on his crack errand to source cherry cola.

“Am I allowed water?” Klaus asks, a little childishly, and Diego nods, knocking Klaus’s hands away when he reaches for the jug.

“I’ll do it,” he says, winking. “I get the impression you’re a little clumsy, sweetheart.”

“Indeed,” Reginald says, and Klaus visibly shrinks back in his seat. “Fortunately we’ve seen some improvement in the last few days, haven’t we, son?”

“Yes, Mr Ha-” Klaus stops himself and sighs. “D-daddy. Yes, daddy.”

Ben uses his hand as a shield and mouths ‘daddy?’ at Diego, who tries not to visibly react. He’s fairly certain Klaus didn’t make _that_ particular decision himself, which means their father is a creepy old lech who wants this teenage wet dream to fulfil some perverted daddy kink he’s got going on. _Gross_ , Diego thinks, but there’s also a hint of annoyance stemming from something else entirely. _I should be his daddy_ , he wants to yell at Reginald.

Their father orders the tasting menu for the table, and as he specifies to the waiter the exact temperature he’d like his steak seared to, Diego steals a longer look at Klaus. Up close, he sees the boy is perfectly made up, eyes smokey, cheeks glowing. His lips are glossy and dusky pink, ripe for biting into.

“You do that makeup yourself?” he asks, impressed and Klaus smiles brightly at him.

“Mom helped, but it was mostly me. I have so much makeup now, it’s kind of ridiculous. Not that I’m complaining. I used to have to hide it from my da-” he stops, checks himself, even though Reginald isn’t listening. “At my old house.”

“So that’s what’s keeping you sweet?” Allison asks. She looks amused. “Well, you’re going to be easier to manage than Vanya.” She looks at Five, her eyes narrowed. “Speaking of Vanya-”

“Don’t,” Five cuts her off. “I haven’t found her yet, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

Allison throws her hands up. “Nothing to do with me. I just like knowing she’s getting further and further away from your loaded gun. After all, she was my _sister_.” She knows Reginald is listening now, but she doesn’t appear to care much. “Even if she betrayed the family, she doesn’t deserve to be shot down. Any of us would have run if-” she looks at Klaus, reflecting on her word choice. “Well, if we were as unhappy as she was.”

“Be that as it may,” Reginald says, “If I find out you assisted her departure-”

“I didn’t,” Allison says bluntly, and Diego actually believes her, for no other reason than he thinks she’d probably enjoy rubbing it in if she knew something. “But I’m not sorry for being glad she’s out of it.”

“Oh, Allison. You make us sound like her gaoler,” Grace chides her gently. “Surely it wasn’t all bad for Vanya? She had everything she could possibly desire.”

“Apart from her dignity,” Allison mutters.

“Will I lose that as well?” Klaus asks, worriedly, and Diego chokes a little on the foie gras he’s just been presented with.

“How much dignity can a whore have, realistically?” Five asks. Klaus shoots him a look of pure contempt. _He’s basically part of the family already_ , Diego thinks with a chuckle.

“This is delicious,” Luther says, mopping his plate up with bread, oblivious to the silent wars being waged around him. “Don’t you think, father?”

“It’ll do.”

The next two courses continue with no less awkwardness. Diego watches Klaus, who seems to be watching everyone _apart_ from Diego, and it’s starting to piss him off a little, because he knows the boy is teasing him on purpose. He’s transfixed by the cut of Klaus’s dress, scooped to show his slim neck and pretty pale shoulders; he wonders would it be like to have that neck exposed to him, those arms gripping him tightly.

He also notices the waiter - a new one, now - stealing sly glances at Klaus whenever he comes to clear his place after each course, and winking whenever Klaus looks his way. It’s infuriating, and Diego would normally kill a guy for less, but this _is_ father’s favorite restaurant, and it would probably make things awkward to take out one of the employees for no other reason than his enjoyment of Klaus’s presence. It’s not like Diego can’t relate.

And anyway, he has another, more pressing problem.

His boner has basically taken on a life of its own at this point; there is literally no ignoring it, and there’s something about Klaus’s scent - like strawberries and cream - and the side profile of his pretty face, his perfect little body, that is turning Diego’s heavy cock into a throbbing mess that can’t be contained.

When their father is temporarily called away to take a phone call, he decides he can’t stand it any longer. Klaus is talking about his favorite past-time (knitting, apparently, which is at once adorable and ridiculous) and Diego uses his distraction to push one hand up the whore’s stockinged thigh, finding the bare skin leading up to his panties.

He snaps a suspender and gives Klaus an indulgent smirk.

The change is instant, but nobody can see why the boy has suddenly stopped talking: Five simply remarks, “Well, I guess the whore finally caught up with the rest of us and got annoyed by the sound of his voice,” and changes the subject to his most recent flat earth theory.

Klaus lets out a small gasp, eyes darting across pleadingly to Diego.

“Have I got your attention now?” he whispers. He pushes a finger against the hem of lace panties, suppressing the animalistic grunt his chest wants to make, and draws circles into the centre, finding Klaus’s hard little dick. God, it’s practically a clit; he’d love to go down on this little whore, really make him squeal. But as much fun as it is seeing Klaus bite on his lip, tears springing up at the sides of his perfectly made up eyes, he started this for a good reason, and he’s not going to be distracted now.

He takes Klaus’s small, shaking hand and brings it over to his lap, unzipping his tux pants just as Reginald arrives back.

“Say anything and the old man will probably spank you right here in front of everyone for tempting me,” he warns the boy quietly. Klaus swallows, to his credit remaining as calm as a flustered virgin can possibly remain in this particular situation, and allows Diego to wrap his hand around his cock.

Diego makes mildly interested noises as the conversation around the table continues, occasionally looking over to check Klaus is still focused on his task. It’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen: the kid is trying so hard not to give away what’s happening, but his eyes are lidded, his mouth is open, and he looks fucking obscene without even trying. At one point, Diego feels Ben dig an elbow into his side, and he glances across at him. His brother has clearly worked out what is going on, and he’s scandalized, but also mildly impressed, if his incredulous expression is anything to go by.

Diego just winks at him and reaches for his drink, hands tightening as a familiar, powerful surge rushes through him, straight to his dick. The next thing he’s aware of, he’s hazed out for a moment, letting the sensation soundlessly wash over him, and he begins to enjoy the comedown.

 _Much better_ , he thinks with a contented sigh.

Klaus snatches his hand back just as the waiter comes over with desert. “Oh, Klaus, you got that salt cod mousse all over your hand,” Grace observes with a _tsk_ , and Klaus hurriedly wipes his hand on the napkin in his lap as Ben takes himself off to the bathroom, muffled laughter accompanying his brisk stride.

Diego mops his brow with his own napkin and tries not to look guilty.

They’re on _apres_ -drinks when Reginald clears his throat, signalling an announcement. Diego leans forward, in a good mood now; his balls are empty, his stomach is full, and alcohol has given this whole night a rosy glow that is reflected in the pinkness of Klaus’s lips. _Almost poetic_ , he thinks to himself happily.

“As you are all aware, including young Klaus now, I have been making initial… shall we say, inroads? Yes, inroads into the offer of his virginity. Of course, the men I have been speaking to are very interested in such a unique offer, and I have no doubt we’ll be seeing some extravagant bids when the time comes.”

Suddenly, Diego’s night doesn’t seem quite as magical.

“However,” Reginald continues, “There is a certain other type of consumer I had not considered, but which I’m beginning to suspect cannot be overlooked. A particularly rich, respectable older gentleman I have been conversing with at length is not necessarily interested in claiming the whore’s virginity for himself. His favored position is that of a _voyeur_.”

“Anybody ever told him about viagra?” Five asks, receiving several sharp _shh’s_ in response. They’re all leaning forward now, except for Grace who remains as composed as ever, and Klaus who has frozen in his seat. Diego’s heart had started to quicken as soon as he’d begun to understand what Reginald might be implying; now it beats at an almost uncomfortable speed.

“In particular, he’d like to see a much larger, younger, fitter man, with… well, to be blunt, a far more _impressive_ appendage, stake his claim. He'd like to see Klaus utterly ruined. And money talks, dear children. Money talks loudly.”

 _I’m the natural choice_ , Diego thinks. _Father must be gearing up to ask me to do this._

He’s about to volunteer, as quickly as fucking Katniss Everdeen volunteered as tribute, when Reginald turns to Luther and smiles beadily at him.

“If he _is_ the top bidder, he has specifically requested you, son, and of course I assured him you would be delighted to meet his needs. I know you find the whores dirty, but I'm sure you'll make an exception for this one. After all, you'll be allowed to take any and all frustrations you have out on him.”

Allison’s desert fork clatters to the table, Ben’s hand grips Diego’s arm, Five cackles delightedly, and Luther simply gapes at Klaus, scrunching his napkin into his lap. The moment is suspended in time and all Diego can hear for a moment is blood rushing through his ears.

“Well,” Luther clears his throat, finally dragging his eyes away from Klaus. “Anything… anything for the family business, father.”

Diego turns to look at Klaus, and sees him already staring back at Diego. He’s crying. The kid is openly crying, terrified, imploring him to do something, and Diego’s stomach spins itself into a heavy knot.

 _Over my dead fucking body_ , he tells Klaus with his eyes.  _Over my dead body will Luther ever touch you before I do._


	3. Under The Cover Of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An opportune tryst with the object of his obsession leaves Diego aware of a startling home truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this one out - like I said, I'm currently struggling with multi chapter fics, but I promise I am committed to finishing this. 
> 
> As always, read the tags before reading this.

He tries reason first. He’s never been very good at that, choosing logic over emotion, but he’s learnt over the years that if Reginald responds to anything at all, it’s likely to be reason.

“I’d do a better job than Luther,” he says. “I know he’s bigger, but I’m better looking, better at fucking.”

Reginald raises an eyebrow at him, a slight smirk on his thin lips. The whirl of the ceiling fan is the only noise in the office for a few moments. “And how would you know _that_ , son?”

“Because I fuck all the time! Luther never does, he’s too busy-” _God_ , he so badly wants to give away Luther’s relationship with Allison, wants Reginald to see that Luther spends half his time pining over his _sister_ (and unlike Klaus, Diego has no doubt that Reginald _does_ view him, Luther and Allison as actual siblings, given that they were brought up together since they were children.) But he doesn’t want to doom Allison to Reginald’s wrath, and he knows, just _knows_ that Reginald will blame her over his precious Luther.

He stops, sighs. “Too busy training. That’s all he does. No passion. No fire.”

“Nonetheless, you weren’t requested.”

“Then put the idea in this john’s head,” Diego insists, trying not to sound impudent. “How hard could it be?”

Reginald’s eyes twinkle as he leans back in his seat, fingertips pressed together. “He seemed rather insistent.”

“How much is he bidding, then?” Maybe, just maybe, Diego will be able to scrape together enough money to put in a silent bid. He’ll rob a goddman bank if he has to. “Twenty grand, thirty?”

His suggestion is met with an amused laugh. “Dear boy, I don’t think you quite understand the amounts people are willing to pay, willing to _go to_ , in order see a lovely young thing like Klaus thoroughly defiled for the first time.”

 _Try me_ , Diego thinks.

His mind whirls, trying to conjure up another argument as to why this can’t happen. He goes for the lowest hanging fruit, desperate. “You know how massive Luther is down _there_ , right? He will literally tear that _lovely young thing_ in half, and then what use will he be to you? Nobody wants a banged out, floppy whore. He’ll be out of action for _weeks_ after.”

It’s kind of a lie. Diego has caught glimpses of Luther’s cock over the years, and it’s a decent size, probably a little wider and fatter than Diego’s own, but given the sheer _bulk_ of Luther’s frame, it’s not as impressive as it could be. Oh, Klaus will definitely struggle to take it, for sure, but he’d struggle to take Diego’s cock too.

(And, yeah, Diego has already imagined _that_ particular moment in minute, agonisingly intense detail.)

Reginald continues to look infuriatingly amused. “Well let’s hope the whore remembers to relax,” he chuckles.

And that’s… it, really. Diego is out of arguments. Reginald is committed to this, and the only solace that he can take is that someone might outbid the _voyeur_ , that even though someone else might take Klaus’s virginity, there’s a chance it won’t be Luther.

 _And no chance it will be you_ , he laments.

He’s turning to leave when there’s a gentle knock on the door. “Ah, speaking of the whore,” Reginald says, raising his voice, “Come in.”

The boy eases himself into the room nervously, Grace encouraging him softly to go, and he looks back at her forlornly before she closes the door between them. He turns to look timidly at Reginald and Diego, doe eyes darting from side to side.

“Mom said you wanted to see me after dance practice?” Klaus says, voice quavering a little. Diego stands between Klaus and the desk that Reginald sits at, wondering if he’s meant to leave, or if his presence is required. He isn’t sure what he’d prefer. Klaus is looking delicious in a tiny leotard that shows off the length of his slim, endless legs, small hands at his thighs trying to cover them. He's also adorably rumpled, a hairband pushing messy curls back. Diego could stay here all day and drink the sight in. But just _being_ around Klaus feels dangerous right now, the thoughts inside his head becoming increasingly dark and possessive, and he’s not sure how much more of it he can cope with before he’s flinging the boy over his shoulder, caveman style, and marching him to the nearest soft surface.

“I did,” Reginald says, breaking Diego from his reverie. “Come here, little one, let me see you properly.”

Klaus pads over to the desk on bare feet, hands falling to his side when Reginald clears his throat.

“Goodness me,” Reginald mutters approvingly as he wags his finger, indicating for Klaus to do a full turn. “Don’t you look a picture?”

Klaus is silent at that, looking over to Diego with embarrassment in his eyes. There’s nothing _nice_ about Reginald’s words, they’ve been chosen to make Klaus aware of the sight he presents, the soft curves of his legs and waist, the lycra material stretched tightly over his perfect ass, but Diego doesn’t want Reginald to think he’s going soft, so instead he mutters, “Father paid you a compliment, whore, what do you say?” He looks away so he doesn’t have to see Klaus’s face drop.

“Thank you, daddy,” he finally manages.

“My pleasure. Here,” Reginald says, patting his lap, “Let me see you a little closer.”

Diego feels his stomach turn and he gestures towards the door. “Should I go?”

“Are we done here?” Reginald asks. “No more… _ah yes_ ,” he interjects pleasurably as Klaus settles neatly into his lap, “avenues of persuasion you wish to explore?”

Diego shakes his head, embarrassed to be talking about this now that Klaus is here: a beautiful, visual reminder of how high these stakes are. “No, father.”

“I suppose we could ask the whore what he thinks?” Reginald says, tucking an errant curl behind Klaus’s ear. “How about it, boy, would you prefer Luther or Diego to be your first?”

Klaus looks across at Diego, his eyes glistening with tears. He looks utterly terrified. “I don’t mind, daddy. Whatever you think is best.”

“I’d like to know.” Reginald takes the boy’s chin in his hand, staring at him hard, challenging him. “Speak up.”

“Diego.”

“Why?”

“Luther hates me. And Diego is-” Diego moves forward despite himself, trying not to give too much of himself away while at the same time preening at Klaus’s choice. “He’s much better looking.”

Diego smiles at that, spirits temporarily lifted, and Reginald _hmms_ thoughtfully. “Well, I asked for your honesty, and you gave it. But ultimately it doesn’t matter what a silly little creature like you wants, does it?”

“No, daddy.” The words are clearly hollow, but Klaus doesn’t miss a beat. Diego wonders just what Reginald did to make him so utterly compliant. In the next moment, though, Reginald is pressing a cold finger to Klaus’s lips, pushing in gently as Klaus begins to suck, and Diego thinks he knows the ugly truth.

“Lovely,” Reginald murmurs. “Such a good boy, now.”

He looks up at Diego, as if remembering he’s still here. “Unfortunately, Diego, as wet as this little slut is for you, I fear Luther is simply the preferred choice for our wealthy benefactor. I’m sure you’ll be able to have the boy at some point, when he’s a little more… what was that term you used? _Banged ou_ _t?_ ”

Klaus whimpers a little around Reginald’s finger, gagging when it’s pushed in deeper.

“Close the door on your way out, son.”

 

___

 

Finding the rich prick that’s willing to pay through the nose for the apparent _pleasure_ of seeing an oaf like Luther take the virginity of a priceless whore like Klaus is next on Diego’s list. He doesn’t get involved with the betting rings that operate down here - especially as he’s frequently the subject of them - but part of Ben’s job is to keep an eye on the punters and ensure the club receives its fair share of the profit.

If anyone is going to know who this mystery man is, it’s the ringleaders, and therefore Ben.

“Not a chance,” Ben says, when Diego approaches him purposefully. Diego growls in annoyance.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”

“Yes, I do. You want to know who the frontrunner is. And I’m telling you, not a chance.”

“So you do _know_?”

“I don’t, in fact. I have no idea. Do you really think this guy is going to make it public knowledge that he’s bidding on a sixteen year old’s virginity? Do you think _anyone_ is?" 

“At least tell me how much he’s putting down.”

“It’s more than a bank holds, let’s put it that way.” Ben sighs, shakes his head. “Diego, just let it go. This _obsession_ you have with Klaus, however amusing I’m finding your obnoxious attempts to court him under father’s nose, is only going to lead you off a cliff. You can have _anyone_ , just not him. Don’t be a fucking dick.”

“He doesn’t want Luther. You saw his face. I’m doing this  _for_ him.”

“I’ve known you for eight years, and in that time I’ve only ever known you to think with your dick. You can’t fool me, bro." 

It takes all of Diego’s willpower not to slam his fist into the wall beside Ben’s head. He stalks off, heading towards the brothel, where he picks the smallest guy in there. He’s blonde, would have been cute if it wasn’t for the cynical, bored look in his eyes. He’s definitely not Klaus, but as Diego shoves his head down into the pillow, gathers up his hair in his hands so the majority of the colour is hidden, he pretends to himself that the hole is tighter, the skin creamier, the legs longer, the moans are sweeter.

 

\---

 

He stews in his own loathing for the next few days, purposefully avoiding the club and his family, not wanting to hear the rumblings of the betting heating up. _Fuck them all_ , he thinks, sulkily. _If I can’t have him then they can’t have me_.

Not that his presence will be particularly noticed if he isn’t down to fight, but the childish part of himself takes comfort in this silent defiance anyway.

Therefore he’s completely blindsided when he gets two unlikely visitors one evening: Five, looking stressed and harried, and Klaus tottering behind him on stupidly high heels, trying to wriggle out of the death grip Five has his wrist in.

“I need you to take care of the whore,” Five shoots at him. “Can you keep your dick in your pants for one night?”

Diego, for once, is at a loss for words. “You _trust_ me?”

“Not really. But this is the only way I can go and find out what the _fuck_ happened to Vanya, without alerting father’s suspicion. He knows I’d never do anything as stupid as leaving the whore with you while I sneak off to find out where she is, so that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“I… I don’t follow.”

Five sighs, as if having to explain a complicated theory to a toddler but ultimately knowing the endeavour is fruitless. “Father has forbidden me from looking for Vanya any longer. Says I failed, and that my time is now better spent babysitting the whore. I disagree. I’ve never failed anything in my life, and I don’t intend on starting now. I’ve had a lead on Vanya from an ex of hers who knew of a relative she had living across county. I’m going to head there tonight, and I’ll be back within a few hours. All the others are working right now, and father will find out if I leave him with any of them. So you, Diego, are going to be on your very best behaviour, because _no_ , I don’t trust you, but I also know that I will literally cut your dick off if I find you’ve put it anywhere near the whore’s tight little hole. Do you understand?”

Diego chances a look at Klaus, who is looking at the ground as though he’s begging it to swallow him whole. “Y-yeah, I understand.”

“And you, whore, don’t go tempting this neanderthal. Keep your legs and mouth closed, sit there,” he says, pointing at the pile of cushions, “and wait until I get back.”

“You could have at least dressed him in something unsexy,” Diego mutters as Klaus delicately approaches the makeshift sofa, nose wrinkled. He’s in a sheer crop top and stretchy shorts that are so tiny they ride up his ass cheeks.

“He looks pretty unsexy to me,” Five says disdainfully. He strides out of the room, raising his voice as he goes. “Remember, Diego, keep your dick _in_ your pants.”

They both let out a small sigh of relief when the door slams shut, but Diego knows it won’t last. Because Klaus… the kid he’s been obsessing about for _weeks_ now, is here, and so is Diego, and for the first time since their fleeting first meeting, they’re completely alone, and they will be for _hours_.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the hell is Five _thinking_ , giving him this level of responsibility? He’s almost tempted to yell after him, tell him to get the fuck back here and do the job he’s expected to.

But then… then Diego wouldn’t have Klaus to himself. And that’s not something he feels like risking, now it’s happening. 

“This is cosy,” Klaus says with good natured sarcasm, looking around the room. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Shut up,” Diego tells him, satisfied when Klaus jumps a little at his forceful tone. “You heard Five. Not one word.”

For a moment he thinks the kid will obey immediately. Then: “How about two or more words?”

“ _None_.”

Klaus pouts, the prettiest fucking pout Diego has ever seen. “Babysitting you was _not_ on my agenda this evening,” he tells him, trying to cover up his softening face with harsh words. “I was actually heading out to get laid.”

The boy makes a strangling motion around his throat, mouths ' _Am I allowed to talk?',_ and Diego rolls his eyes permissively.

“Thanks. Well. You can still go, if you like.”

“What, and risk you escaping?”

“The old man ties me to the bed at night. If you’re _that_ desperate to get out, I’m sure you can work your way around a piece of rope.”

“Father ties you _up_?” Diego asks. “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up.”

“I’m used to it at this point,” Klaus says, a little sadly. He pulls down on his crop top futilely. “Can I have a drink, though, before you do it? I get migraines sometimes and water helps.” He stands up, looking at Diego expectantly, and Diego sighs. The kid’s called his bluff: no way is he going to leave him here alone.

“How about you just sleep until Five gets back? I don’t need to go out.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice here. You either sit there in silence, or you try to sleep without your wrists all strung up for once. What will it be?”

Klaus eyes the double bed suspiciously. “What are you going to be doing?”

He supposes it’s a bit fucking creepy if he says _watching you_ , so he just sighs. “I don’t know, kid, I haven’t thought that far ahead.

“You could… I don’t mind sleeping here,” he says, patting the cushions he’s sat on, “You could sleep too, if you want. I don’t need a bed.”

“Oh, you’re waiting for me to fall asleep so you can sneak your ass out of here?” he says playfully, knowing that Klaus was just trying to be accommodating. Klaus shakes his head wildly.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Get over here, whore, there’s a bed waiting for you.”

Klaus hurries over quickly, kicking his heels off as he climbs onto the mattress. He looks up at Diego before reaching to hug the pillow towards his head, a soft smile on his face. “I knew you weren’t as bad as the others.”

That gives Diego pause for thought; his brow knits as he takes in the boy’s prone form. “What made you think that?”

“Well, you helped me the first time you saw me. And Grace loves you the best. Says you’re her angel.”

“An angel that forced you to jack me off during a family meal,” Diego points out, not entirely sure he approves of this kid thinking he’s a soft-touch.

“Oh, yeah,” Klaus says, smiling into his pillow a little. “That _was_ kind of mean.”

“But you didn’t mind it?”

“I was grateful for the practice.” Klaus shrugs. “I know I’m going to be bad at this, but Reginald says I have to be satisfactory or I’ll regret it.” He looks back up at Diego. “Plus… you _are_ really…”

“What?” Diego asks, mouth twitching upwards. “What am I?”

“You’re… nice to look at. Handsome, strong. It’s not like when Reginald touches me. I hate that. I don’t mind when you do it.”

Diego’s chest inflates with pride. He _knew_ the slut was wet for him. Not that it’s going to get him anywhere.

But then a tempting brainworm works its way in. Klaus needs _practice_ , and there’s plenty they can do that doesn’t involve penetration. Another handjob, sure, but what if it went even further? He knows their father is accepting bids for the boy’s mouth, to be the first cock deep inside that slim, inexperienced, and therefore delightfully sensitive throat, but unlike his hole, there’s no real _tell_ if Diego went ahead with a soft, slow mouthfuck. He just has to be careful not to fuck too deeply, because Klaus’s voice suddenly becoming cracked and husky would be a dead giveaway.

He sits down on the side of the bed and Klaus gasps a little as he feels it depress beneath him. “Please, Diego-”

“Shh. I know what you want now. You've just told me. Practice. That’s fine. We can do that.”

“That wasn't what I meant! He’ll know, Diego, Reginald will know!”

“Not if we’re clever. Not if I don’t go near _that_ ,” he says, reaching round to run a hand down Klaus’s curvy little ass. “We can try some other things. Fuck, you’re pretty,” he says, distracted suddenly by Klaus’s blown out pupils, his quivering lip. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself, baby? I think about you.”

“I’m not allowed,” Klaus says, gasping when Diego’s hands move to his waist, finding bare skin as the little crop top rides up higher. “I don’t get a chance to… to do that.”

“Wow, sucks to be you,” Diego chuckles. “I beat off twice a day, imagining you bouncing on my big cock. Imagining you begging for it. Crying, needing it so bad. Do you need it now, sweetheart?”

Klaus shakes his head, cute in his attempts to deceive him. “No.”

“I think you do,” Diego says, mouth near Klaus’s mouth, lips ghosting over his, so close he can smell vanilla scented lipgloss. “Think you need it _bad_.”

“Promise you won’t take my virginity?” Klaus chokes out, almost a sob. “Swear it, Diego.”

He wants to make Klaus sweat, wants to mock him for trying to impose a rule that, truly, he has no control over. But the boy is trying so hard to be good for him, and Diego wants to reward that. He whispers, “Promise,” before pushing his tongue into Klaus’s mouth, sealing them together with a forceful kiss. He’s on top of Klaus now, in between his legs, and Klaus opens up for him so beautifully, wrapping his long legs around Diego’s waist, pulling Diego even closer.

“He controls everything about me now,” Klaus says once Diego has drawn back, savouring the moment. “But he can’t control this.” His pretty face is full of burgeoning determination, and Diego realises in that moment how much this means to him. He decides not to point out that it’s just another man in control now, that this would be happening whether Klaus wanted it or not.

Let the kid have this victory. It’s not like Diego cares either way.

“That’s good. It’s so good you’ve decided you want to suck on my cock to make yourself better at it,” Diego praises him, and Klaus shakes his head in confusion.

“What?”

“That’s what we just decided. You can suck my cock, for practice, and nobody will have to know.”

“I thought… I meant… you meant... we could just kiss and stuff? I can’t… Diego, Reginald will _kill_ me.”

Diego laughs out loud, amused. _Kissing_? Is this kid for fucking _real_? He grins good-naturedly, letting Klaus’s innocence slide with no sarcastic commentary on it. He reaches for the boy’s arms again, clasping their hands together. ““He won’t find out. I’ll be gentle.”

Klaus’s eyes cloud over with a sudden flash of anger and he wriggles out of Diego’s grasp, scrambling off the bed. “No! I don’t want to suck your ugly cock,” he declares, like a real fucking brat, and Diego snarls in annoyance, springing off the bed rapidly and grabbing the kid by both wrists.

“You ever insult my cock again, I’ll slap your face with it so hard you’ll be seeing stars."

"Like it would even make a dent," Klaus snits back. Diego tightens his grip on his wrist, trying to contain himself even in his anger, knowing how easy it would be to mark Klaus up. Instead he opts for pushing him down onto his knees, one hand moving to the top of the boy's head to hold him still as the other fumbles for the fly on his jeans.

"Get on your knees like the whore that my father is paying you to be, and stop acting like you haven’t been dreaming about this in your mouth ever since you put your hands around it and got me off in front of the whole family.”

“I didn’t want to do that!” Klaus said, eyes narrowed like a pissy little kitten. “I don’t want anything to do with you and your fucked up family. You’re all rude and weird and incestuous and think you’re way more important than you actually are. That Vanya girl did the right thing by- _mmmph_ ,” he sputters out, cut off, as Diego finishes unzipping his jeans and stuffs his cock right into the yammering, annoying mouth.

The silence, apart from the wet, sloppy sounds of Klaus’s tongue adjusting to the cock resting on it, is absolutely _blissful_. Diego lets out a sigh, grabbing handfuls of curly hair as he inches in slowly, stopping when he feels Klaus start to gag a little.

“That’s it. That’s what we’re going to do. Nice and gentle. Just suck on it the way you suck on daddy’s fingers.” That receives an angry, humiliated upwards glare from Klaus, but to the kid’s credit he doesn’t try and pull away.

Diego focuses on the explorative, tentative circling of Klaus’s tongue around his thick cock, the way it becomes a little more adventurous the longer Diego keeps himself steady. The kid is making delicious noises, small little snuffles and whines, just the barest hint of a protest that’s entirely performative at this point. Because it’s _obvious_ he’s starting to enjoy this, starting to get a little turned on himself, if his slim bare thighs, closely squeezed shut but rubbing together in tiny circles, is anything to by.

Some rich idiot is going to be paying a pretty penny for this experience, but unbeknownst to him, unbeknownst to _anyone_ , Diego will now always have been the first man to place his cock in one of Klaus’s holes, and it feels so,  _so_ right.

As he grows more and more ready to come - especially with Klaus working up a nice little rhythm now - it becomes maddeningly difficult not to thrust in harder, to experience Klaus’s throat cushioning his cock, tears at Klaus’s eyes as he struggles to take it. At one point he goes too far, hears a startled _gcckk_ as the whore tries to push wildly against Diego’s thighs, and Diego remembers himself, pulling out fully with a wet _pop_.

“This won’t work,” he says, pissed off, “I need to _fuck_. Need to thrust.”

Klaus is staring up at him, dick struck and vacant looking, and Diego would most definitely be leaning forward to kiss that pretty mouth if he wasn’t so worked up. “I wasn’t good enough?” he asks, soft and adorable, and Diego ruffles his hair indulgently

“No, baby, you were perfect. But I’m a man, okay? I need tightness. Need to-” he looks at Klaus’s bare thighs, still squeezed together as Klaus rests on his knees. “C’mere,” he grunts, pulling Klaus up by his elbows. He pushes him against the wall, so he’s facing it, squeezes his legs together. “Keep them like that or I’ll tie your ankles together,” he warns. Klaus wriggles in confusion, trying to shift around to look at Diego.

“You… you’re not fucking me?”

“No, baby, I’m… well, kind of. Going to fuck your thighs, okay? So keep them warm and tight and squeezed together.”

He can’t be bothered to explain beyond that; he grabs Klaus by a barely covered ass cheek, forcing him to arch his back out, then slips his leaking, heavy cock in between the tightness of his thighs, grunting as his balls rest against bare skin.

“There we go,” he says, exhaling against Klaus’s cheek as he starts to thrust. The boy is wriggling again, confused but not exactly resistant, and Diego grazes his neck with his teeth, not hard enough to leave a mark; it’s just the hint of a threat, and it does the trick, Klaus sticking his ass out further, legs tighter together.

“Di-eh-gohh,” he whines, “This feels good, this is so nice.” Diego sees Klaus’s small hand disappear down the front of his shorts before he snatches it out, slamming it against the wall.

“Don’t you dare mess those little panties, what the fuck else are you going to wear when Five picks you up?” he asks, and Klaus’s cheeks flush with red.

“Let me… let me take them off.”

“Shut up before I stuff something in your mouth,” he warns, and Klaus moans out loud, trying to sound petulant, but his body is made for this treatment, and Diego knows he won’t do shit until he’s been given permission. Klaus squeezes a lot harder, bringing his hand down to brush curiously against the head of Diego’s cock as it pokes through the front of his thighs with each thrust, and Diego is _gone_ , fucking gone, as he feels himself unload, cum splattering down Klaus’s bare legs with a satisfying heft to it.

He takes a couple of stumbling steps back, chuckling a little as Klaus stands there dumbly, blinking down at his messy thighs.

“So _you’re_ allowed to get me dirty?” he asks with a pout, and Diego winks at him before scooping him up in a bridal carry and taking him through to the shower room. Fortunately he aimed lower than Klaus's shorts, but the kid needs to be cleaned up regardless, the treasure trails of Diego's jizz frosting over on the pale skin.

“Strip and bend.”

He’s satisfied at how pliant Klaus is being, how blissfully quiet he is as he follows every single order. Completely naked, he’s as pretty as a picture; he’s creamy and pink and Diego wants to press kisses all over him. Instead he directs the shower stream in between his legs, making Klaus scrub at the drying cum patches with his hand, avoiding getting the curls wet as they look like they’ll take an age to dry, and he has no idea when Five will be getting back.

When they finish, Klaus whimpers pleadingly, eyes looking down towards his small, hard dick, and Diego realises what he wants. He sighs, pretending to think about it, as the kid whispers, “Please, Diego, I’ll do anything.”

“Okay. Fine.”

He wouldn’t normally go down on a guy but Klaus’s dick is so small, it doesn’t feel that much different to eating out a girl. Klaus gasps at the sensation, Diego trying not to laugh as the boy’s head falls back against the cubicle wall, completely gone, and it only takes a few seconds before the boy’s sweet-tasting fluid is coating Diego’s mouth. He keeps it there, standing back up to take Klaus’s mouth in his, loving the way Klaus gasps when he realises he’s being given back his own cum to swallow down like a good boy.

Afterwards they lay in bed together, Klaus dressed again, clean and sweet smelling from the shower, his lips tasting like vanilla again from the gloss he’s reapplied.

“Did you enjoy that, baby?” Diego asks, and Klaus begrudgingly nods.

“I wish… I wish so much you were going to be my first,” he says nervously. “With my… my actual virginity. I don’t want it to be Luther. He hates me.”

“Luther is alright,” Diego lies. He knows Luther _isn’t_ alright, by his own definition, but he’s too dull to be a genuine threat to this kid. “He’ll be very vanilla, he’ll take it slowly.”

“He won’t!” Klaus snaps, suddenly looking angry. Diego blinks, taken aback. “He’s told me, he’s going to _ruin_ me. Says that’s what Reginald wants to see, so that’s what he’s going to do.”

“Reginald? What’s Reginald got to do with it?” Diego shakes his head. “Reginald will go along with whatever this secret bidder of his wants. This is all about money for him. And he’ll have ground rules in place so you’re not too badly fucked up afterwards.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Klaus shifts away from him, standing up. He begins to pace nervously. “There is no _secret bidder_. Reginald _is_ the bidder. He doesn’t care about the auction, he just cares about seeing Luther fuck me until I’m bleeding and broken!”

Diego feels his face draining of colour. Surely… surely Klaus has misunderstood? “Come on, kid. What possible gain could Reginald have from seeing you out of action for so long after your first fuck?”

“I tried to… tried to hurt him. During my first week here. I grabbed the paperweight from his desk when he was touching me, hit him round the head with it. I promised him after I’d behave,” Klaus recounts tearfully, voice thick with emotion, “But he said I had to be taught a lesson. I thought maybe he’d forgotten about it but then the family meal happened and-” he begins to sob fully. “I’m so scared, Diego. I just wanted to escape. I didn’t ask for this, any of this.”

Diego feels like a horse whisperer as he approaches Klaus carefully, voice low and soothing as he hushes him. He holds his arms out, waits, and the boy eventually comes forward, into the embrace, sobbing into Diego’s chest.

“I just wanted to escape,” Klaus says again, and Diego recalls a memory from long ago - when he was barely older than Klaus. The ticket in his hand. Galeão Airport. And Luther, finding him, dragging him back home to the full wrath of Reginald’s fury.

The first and last time he’d tried to escape _this_.

“Does anyone else know that father is the bidder?” he asks quietly, the boy still sobbing in his arms. He receives a small shrug.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I think even I’m not meant to know, but Luther is too dumb to keep a secret and I’m too smart not to work it out.”

Diego has to laugh a little at that, even though it’s really not funny. Still, maybe it’s good that Reginald apparently has enough of a sense of shame not to broadcast this particular piece of information to the rest of his family. Maybe Diego can use that to his advantage.

He holds the boy in his arms until he’s stopped sobbing. It takes a long time, and Diego is almost thankful for the opportunity to not let go of him.


	4. Under The Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego's obsession with Klaus makes him begin to question everything he thought to be true.

It goes like this: he hates Luther, Luther hates him, and they deal with this by avoiding one another completely, apart from in the cages and around the dinner table. One allows them the opportunity to vent their raw aggression, the other to vent their frustrations. It’s a decent understanding. It works.

So Diego knows he’s breaking protocol by slipping into Luther’s bedroom one night, holding a knife to his throat as his giant of a brother stirs (thankfully not too energetically) in his sleep before starting awake, his eyes glimmering with hatred when he sees who has woken him from his slumber.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he grunts.

“Debating what to do with you.”

“Is this about the whore?” Luther scoffs. “You really need to let this go. Desperation isn’t a good look on you.”

Diego can see the thick neck straining a little, the pronounced convex of his brother’s Adam’s apple working methodically to control his breathing against the slick blade of the knife. Luther’s right: desperation isn’t a good look on Diego, but fear is a worse look on Luther, and he sees it now. He wonders when that shift happened, and he thinks maybe it’s a little to do with Allison. Now that Luther knows what love feels like, he probably also knows what loss would do to him.

“Did you know?” Diego asks. “About dad being the bidder?”

Luther pales. “How did you find out?”

Diego grins. “I didn’t, not for sure. You just told me.” Luther glares at him in a frustrated epiphany, eyes narrowing, and Diego shakes his head from side to side, letting out a low whistle. “You sick, sick puppy. You’re willing to let your own father watch you _rape_ a scared little virgin? That’s some fucked up incestuous shit, even for this family.”

“That’s not-” Luther tries weakly, attempting to justify it, but they both know that’s _exactly_ what’s been scheduled to happen. “It’s father’s orders. You know we don’t disobey father’s orders.”

“I know _you_ don’t. But the rest of  us… I feel like we’d draw the line somewhere. That this would be the obvious place to mark down our chalk. You know who I think would draw the line first? Allison. I think she’d feel _very_ strongly about this perverted little plan of yours.”

It works. Luther’s face loses any remaining colour and he grips the bedsheets in horror, shaking his head.

“Don’t you _dare_.”

“Oh, I fucking _dare_ ,” Diego rasps at him. “I dare  _hard_. This gross little rendezvous isn’t happening, not with you, and if it does, I’ll tell her. Everything. How you truly get your rocks off. Father whacking one out as he encourages his big strong son to get naked and fuck a kid who we both know will be screaming and fighting the whole time. I don’t know who Allison will be more disgusted with, you or daddy dearest, but I’m _pretty_ sure she won’t take this lying down.” He pauses, ready to hammer the last nail. “Hopefully father doesn’t decide to punish her when she tells him where to stick the family values.”

And sure, Diego kind of hates himself for those words, because Allison is a good person, as principled as you can possibly be in this rat trap of a family. He doesn’t want to see her hurt. But he’s willing to risk it if it means ensuring Klaus’s virginity is gifted to him. If he can keep the kid safe.

“What do you want, then?” Luther asks, the words sounding like a thousand curses. “You know dad won’t just accept me saying ‘I refuse’ to him. I've already told him yes." 

“That’s for you to figure out, big boy.” Diego pats the side of his face mockingly. “But make it good. Because Klaus belongs to me. His virginity is mine to take. And if that’s denied to me, well… you know I’m a loose canon.” He grins, and he's certain it looks maniacal. “Understand?”

It’s a good thing there were no bridges left to burn with Luther, because this almost certainly would have done it. As he registers the expression of pure hatred in his brother’s face, he has to chuckle a little at how easy it was to crack this case. He takes his knife away, spins it in his hand, before leaping off the bed.

“Counting on you, bro. Don’t fuck it up.”

He hears the sound of a fist smashing into a wall once he's closed the door behind him.

He grins even harder.

 

* * *

 

He isn’t surprised when he’s called into his father’s office a couple of days later, but he’s nervous, because this will go one of two ways: either Reginald is going to have him punished, maybe even killed, for threatening Luther, or he’s going to let Diego know he’s the new candidate. The extremes are intense, but Diego has learned to weather that creeping feeling of anxiety. There’s no point, really, not in this family, where you’re always one betrayal away from having your throat slit.

“Ah, Diego,” Reginald says, when he’s called for him to enter. He's watching something on a laptop, and there are sloppy, gulping sounds coming from the speakers. A low, uneasy feeling settles in Diego's stomach and he tries not to react with disgust. “Come, come, boy."

Diego slips into the chair opposite Reginald’s desk, and Reginald turns the laptop to the side so they can both see the screen. Sure enough, Klaus’s stretched-open mouth takes up the majority of the screen, zoomed in. High resolution captures every speck of drool as he struggles to take the massive cock in his mouth. His pretty cheeks are covered in tears and he’s looking upwards, green eyes fearful and pleading. There’s no focus on the man face fucking him, unless you count his cock, and the hands entwined in the boy's curly hair. They’re not calloused hands, they’re smooth and polished, nails trimmed and even.

This was the winner of Klaus’s mouth, and Diego knows from the words he’s saying, as he splits Klaus’s throat in half, that he believes he was the first one in there.

_“Get used to it, baby boy. I opened you up and now this is your life. Sucking on cock like the cheap little whore you are. Fuck. What a slut .”_

Diego’s eyes shift momentarily over to Reginald, who is enthralled, smiling when Klaus gags violently and tries to pull away, only to be held firmly in place, those same expensive looking hands tightening their grip. More drool escapes from Klaus’s mouth as the cock works itself harder into his throat, and the video resolution is so good that Diego can literally see the outline of it bulging through Klaus’s slim neck.

He feels his own cock start to harden and he figures as he’s definitely going to hell, he may as well make the ride worth it.

“Does this mean I can fuck his throat now?” he asks Reginald, who smiles cryptically, finally tearing his eyes off the screen.

“I thought you wanted to fuck a lot more than his throat.”

 _So do you_ , Diego wants to spit out, discretion never one of his strengths, but he bites his tongue.

“Well. Both, in an ideal world.”

“Hmm.” Reginald strokes his chin thoughtfully, nodding. “I can see how hungry you are for it, son, and I must admit it would perhaps make a better show for our gentleman bidder.” He lies slickly, no tell in his voice or demeanor. “I have made him a proposal that he’s willing to listen to, and you have Luther to thank for this.”

“Oh?” Diego sits up a little while trying to maintain his air of reserved nonchalance. “I don’t have much to thank Luther for, so this should be interesting.”

“Luther, in the spirit of supporting the family business, feels a fight would offer more theatricality. A fight,” Reginald continues, “to win the hand of our fair maiden whore. You and Luther will fight for the right to bed him, and our bidder will be happy to endorse the outcome.”

Diego takes a moment to process this, and then he realises how clever Luther has been, for once in his stinking life. Luther has a better track record than him in their one on one fights - enough for this to be a reasonable suggestion for him to make without it looking like he’s actively trying to disobey Reginald’s suggestion. At the same time, however, his track record isn’t so perfect that a lose to Diego would be unfeasible.

Yep, Diego has to admit it. The big guy did well here.

“So,” Reginald continues, “What do you think to it, son?”

“The opportunity to kick Diego’s ass _and_ fuck that perfect virgin ass all in one night? Sign me the fuck up,” Diego says confidently. Reginald smiles, shakes his hand. On the screen, Klaus whimpers as the guy pulls out to deliver a load of thick, hot jizz onto his face. They both watch for a few moments, enraptured.

“If you win, I trust you’ll give our bidder a similarly good show?”

“The _greatest_ show,” Diego assures him. He stands up with a swagger to his step, and Reginald dismisses him with a benign chuckle. Diego hears the video start up again just before he’s out of the door and he suppresses another shudder.

It isn’t until later that it dawns on him something feels _off_. He racks his brain, weighing up all the outcomes of the proposed situation before he realises what the uneasy feeling represents. If he _does_ win, Reginald will be the one watching him fuck Klaus. That on its own is disturbing enough, but so is the following thought:

If he told Luther his identity as the secret bidder, knowing he’d be in the room and the truth would come out sooner or later... but he’s still lying to Diego about it...

Does that mean Reginald is fixing this for Luther to win?

* * *

 

Once Reginald has informed him of this new challenge, Diego throws himself into a training schedule so intense that it would leave a normal person hospitalized. He wants to look shredded and terrifying when he steps into the cage next Friday. The final bid is set for Thursday, with the match set to go ahead regardless of who the top bidder is the following day. There’s been a flurry of late bids, which Diego is watching warily, hoping Reginald doesn't change his mind for the promise of millions. Now he has Klaus’s virginity in his sight, he isn’t about to let go to someone he doesn't even  _know. B_ ut Ben informs him cautiously that nobody yet has managed to outbid _the voyeur_.

He’s desperate to get the message to Klaus that he doesn’t need to worry, he’s solved this for the both of them, but security around the boy has become even tighter, with Reginald instructing Hazel and Cha-Cha to never leave his side.

Sometimes Diego will pass him by as they move him from his bedroom to wherever he needs to be, and he’ll smile when Klaus’s eyes light up at the sight of him. The boy has the prettiest expressions he's ever seen, fear mixed with hope and even optimism when he sees Diego, and it might be soppy but he’s glad to be the cause of it, even if it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

It’s maddening. He needs to be close to Klaus, needs to touch him, smell him, get him hot with burning kisses that leave no evidence. Now he’s had a taste, it becomes more apparent than ever that the only place he’s going to be happy with Klaus being held captive is in the crook of Diego’s arms.

“You’ve changed,” Allison tells him one day. “Are you even listening to me these days? Hello?!”

Diego grunts at her as he straps another weight onto the lifting bar. “Changed how?”

“You’re constantly distracted. Bad tempered. I mean, even worse than usual. It’s obvious that all the thoughts in that pretty head of yours are occupied by Klaus.”

“She’s right,” Five says, appearing out of nowhere. Diego huffs with frustration as he lays down on the bench. _Why not invite the whole family_ , he thinks, pissed. “You have become mind-numblingly boring since he wriggled his ass into the inner circle. 

“I don’t like being told no,” he says, beginning to lift. Five sighs, shrugging.

“I guess I get that. Actually, that brings me to my next point. Allison, have you-”

“No, Five! I have not heard from Vanya. And as I’ve already told you, I wouldn’t let you know even if I had, so it’s literally _pointless_ asking me this repeatedly."

“The thing is, dad’s stopped caring. And I have no real desire to kill her. Never have done. So you're really not risking anything by telling me.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Diego supplies, remembering their conversation from a few weeks back. Five might solve the majority of his problems by shooting them, but Diego knows instinctively he’d never go _there_ with Vanya. “Not that you should take my word for it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” Allison replies loftily. She’s staring at Five with suspicion, arms folded, eyes narrowed. “But genuinely, I haven’t heard from her. If you can’t find her, what makes you think I can?”

“Girls talk,” Five says with a shrug. “But I’ve been keeping tabs on your usual lines of communication and I have to admit you’re probably telling the truth. I’m smarter than you, so I would easily work out if you were hiding something, but I haven’t had reason to suspect you yes.”

“Gee, thanks, on both accounts,” Allison replies sarcastically. “Are you filming my apartment, as well?”

“No, just breaking into it once or twice a week, depending, to do a fingerprint swab." 

Diego chokes back a laugh as he pushes upwards, past the strain at his biceps. He’s going to _destroy_ Luther, and the burn tells him he’s doing it right.

“The thing is,” Allison says sadly, “I really do miss her.”

He expects that from Allison, he doesn’t expect Five to confide, “Me too, sis. Me too.”

“And you guys think _I’m_ weird for falling for her replacement whore,” Diego remarks through gritted teeth. Allison rolls her eyes at him and presses down on the weight lifting bar when he tries to bring it up.

“I don’t think you’re weird for falling for a ‘whore’. I think you’re weird for never caring about anyone or anything, until now.”

“I’ve always cared about fucking.”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Allison points out. He studiously ignores her until she takes her hand away. 

“Well _I_ think you’re weird, full stop,” Five interjects. “Vanya was classy. This kid is just fuckable. And even that’s open to debate.”

“Which is _exactly_ what I want to do to him,” Diego protests. Five shakes his head with an expert precision.

“If that’s all you wanted to do, you wouldn’t care so much about being the first one in his ass. You’ve never minded sloppy seconds before. This one is obviously special.”

“Fuck, it’s pointless arguing with you two!” Diego explodes. “Get the fuck out and let me train in peace, goddamn you.”

Allison at least has the good grace to look sheepish; Five leaves the room after her with a smirk thrown over his shoulder. Outside he hears their conversation turn back to Vanya, but he’s already lost back in his workout, ready to pump iron until his sleeves burst at the seams.

 

* * *

 

Detective Eudora Patch is as good as she always is; a first class pussy, a gorgeous face and a challenging expression that makes Diego want to bend over for her, which is about as rare as it gets when he fucks.

Tonight, though, his mind is on other things, and after she’s pushed him down in between her legs, made him eat her out for about ten minutes, she grabs his hair and yanks him back up.

“What the fuck, Diego, where’s the effort?”

“I need a favour,” he confesses, and she raises an eyebrow. “Something’s going down at work and I need an address.”

“Well why didn’t you lead with that?” she asks with an irritated sigh. “I’m missing Game Of Thrones for this, you little bitch. I don’t _have_ to be here.”

 _Here_ is the gym, which is rare for her: she usually favors hotel rooms. “I’m a gentleman,” Diego replies. She snorts at that but gives him permission to continue with a nod of the head. “We have a new kid working for us. Klaus. Anybody on your precinct been brought up to speed by Cha-Cha?”

“Maybe,” she says suspiciously. “But I feel like we shouldn’t be discussing that.”

 _Of course_. Reggie wasn’t lying when he said he had the police in his pocket. Even Detective Patch, though, must know that openly discussing her knowledge of a trafficked sixteen year old whore is risky business. Discussing it with a loose canon like Diego, who is obviously fishing for information? Even riskier.

“What if I wanted to help him?” Diego asks. He knows that isn’t the truth, not really; he just wants to know more about where Klaus comes from, wants to feed his obsession and maybe win Klaus’s trust through acquired knowledge of his childhood. In any case, Eudora looks even more confused by what he’s asking. 

“I’d say that’s… _wholly_ unlike you, to be honest, and I’d wonder whether you’re trying to test my loyalty.”

She’s smart, but she isn’t smart enough to see what’s really happening here.

“All I want is an address. Then I’ll never ask you about him again.”

“An address?”

“For his dad. Wherever that son of a bitch is living now. I need some details about what went down, how he ended up in my father’s possession, whether he's going to keep quiet about this arrangement.”

“Diego,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Why are you asking this of me? This isn’t how our relationship works.”

She seems to be slipping further away from his objective, and he allows the anger to flare so he can make his next words more effective. “Don’t forget, _Detective Patch_ , I own you. I could get you fired, easily. I don’t have to do you the courtesy of asking you, but I am.”

Her reaction is... exactly what he expected. Dark eyes flashing with anger, she pushes him back against the pillow, straddles him and brings her hands to his neck.

“You own _me_? You piece of shit! I own _you_. Now if you’re a _good boy_ , maybe I’ll allow you this one stupid bit of intel. But you better make damn sure you make it worth my while, pretty boy.”

She shifts round, pussy pressing down on his face as he opens his mouth to her clit. He smiles into it as her small, strong hands grip his neck tighter.

 

* * *

 

With Klaus’s father’s home address saved securely in his phone, he drives from one end of the city to the next, finding himself in a divey neighbourhood that looks like something from a documentary on the societal effects of meth. It certainly doesn’t look like the kind of place he’d imagine a new money asshole, rich from the unspeakable crime of selling his own son, to be residing, and he doesn’t hold out much hope as he pulls into the curb outside the house number that Detective Patch sent over to him.

 _This asshole has definitely jumped ship and neglected to update his details_ , he thinks cynically. But he follows it through anyway, as he’s here now, and there may be some clue as to where Klaus's father has disappeared to.

He doesn’t bother to knock the door, which is half hanging off the frame; he kicks it in and marches through to the kitchen diner area where an ancient TV crackles in the background, the only artificial light in this bleak room. In front of it, his silhouette lit up around the edges by the screen, is a hunched over figure, and Diego thinks for a moment: _oh, he’s already dead_.

But then the guy turns round and Diego sees a hint of Klaus in the expression, same fearful eyes, curly hair, not nearly as pretty, but his father all the same.

“What do you want?” the man asks, voice thick with a European accent that Diego can’t place. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

“Me?” Diego laughs, pointing at his chest. “What have _I_ taken, old man?”

“You work for him, don’t you? That psycho, Hargreeves. You’ve taken the only important thing in my life, and now you want more?! There’s nothing here for you! _Leave_.”

The vitriol in his tone gives Diego pause. This is _not_ the repentant tone of a man who sold his son, nor is it mocking, or superior, or anything else that Diego would have expected from a subhuman piece of shit.

He blinks dumbly, and the man laughs without humor.

“Now you’re at a loss for words? Please, just go, I cannot stand to look at anyone associated with Hargreeves.”

“You mean… you mean your _friend_ Hargreeves? The one you knew for years. The one who knew your son _for years_?” Diego points out angrily. “What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you sit here and act this self righteous after what you did to Klaus?”

Klaus’s father shrinks under the scrutiny. “I will regret to the day I die not understanding who I was bringing into my home. I thought he was a good man, that he would help me and my son to have a better life. My son… he is special. Sees things, hears things. Such a sensitive boy. I did not realise-” The older man begins to sob throatily, clutching at his chest like it might stop the flow of tears.

“What?” Diego asks. “What didn’t you realise?!”

“I didn’t realise Hargreeves was seducing Klaus. Giving him money, treats, pouring snake oil in his ear. Not until it was too late. And when I did, and Klaus told me… _I’m sorry, papa, no more, I promise_ … I didn’t realise that wasn’t the end of it. Not until Hargreeves held a knife to my throat and told me if I ever contacted my son again, he would make him watch as he killed me.” He points to the door, his sobs becoming more convulsive. “Klaus was a good boy. Said _don’t worry papa, I’m going to work for him, it will be fine, I’m happy_. And they walked out this door and now my life is ended. You see? I was a fool but I did not _know_ I was a fool.”

If he’s lying to save his own skin, it’s a damn good performance. Diego is confounded, speechless trying to pick holes in the man’s confession. _Klaus didn’t know anything about Reginald. He was scared. He was so scared that first night. Has been ever since_.

But as he walks over to the cowering man, ready to torture him until he gives him a goddamn lick of truth, he’s too blinded with fury to see the gun on the table next to Klaus’s father. Too blinded with fury to see Klaus’s father take the gun in his hands, press it against his temple, and fire.

Diego jolts back in shock as he watches a cacophony of fresh red hit the wall.

The gory end to this man’s life would, under normal circumstances, be largely routine for Diego to witness. But one question keeps running through his head as he stumbles out of the house and makes his way to the car.

_If that was all a lie, why would he waste his dying breath telling it?_

 

* * *

 

On the way home, he receives a text message from Five.

_Get to the club. Whore’s escaped. Need to find him._

He makes the twenty minute drive in ten, barely remembering to put on his car brake as he heads down the stone stairs that lead to the caverns of the city. _No no no_ , he’s thinking. _You’re not going to leave me now. Please don’t do this._

Somewhere in his blind confusion he takes a wrong turn, then another, and suddenly he’s nowhere familiar in the caverns of the city, and his heartbeat is unbearable. _Get it together_ , he thinks to himself, while simultaneously seeing things he doesn’t want to see, like Klaus’s father’s head caved in on one side, and Klaus running, running, never coming back.

 _Get it together, Diego_.

He stops, takes three deep breaths. He listens to the sound of silence around him, and he closes his eyes, trying to work out where he is by scent. The worse it stinks, the further away from the club and the closer he is to the city’s sewer he is.

And then he hears a clear cry through the silence, a screaming that he knows in his heart is Klaus. He runs, runs as fast as he can towards it, ready to _kill_ whoever or whatever it is making his baby scream like that.

But when he finds the kid, he’s all alone, backed up against a wall with his arms across as his face as he screams again with pure fear that makes Diego’s spine tingle.

“Klaus?” he says, inching carefully towards him, understanding instinctively that Klaus is more animal than boy in this moment. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong?”

“Can’t you see her?!” Klaus screams. “Can’t you hear her?" 

“Her… what… who is _her_?!”

“She’s so angry. She’s so angry,” Klaus whimpers. “I can’t- Diego, please…” He’s locked onto Diego now, grabbing his arm, but Diego is pleased he can see him, can say his name, knows he's there. “Why’d he do this to her, Diego? Why’d he hurt her?" 

“There’s nobody here!” Diego says gently, looking all around. “Are you… did someone give you something, hey? Are you tripping?” There’s no other explanation, _can’t be_ , but Klaus is terrified in a way that Diego has never seen, and even drugs feel like a reach at this point.

“Vanya! I see her, she’s so angry,” Klaus says, sobbing. “He killed her, Diego. Daddy killed her. And she says I’m next, that I have to be next.”

He slumps to the floor, sobbing, and Diego feels his heart pumping in his chest as he drops down with Klaus, taking the small, trembling body in his arms.

“Vanya was here?” he asks softly.

“Vanya _is_ here,” Klaus whispers. “Her… her ghost. I can see her, Diego. She’s so angry. She’s in so much pain. He hurt her so bad.”

_My son… he is special. Sees things, hears things. Such a sensitive boy._

Diego... Diego has always been a superstitious man. Being raised Catholic will do that to a person.

He waits it out, allowing the boy to clutch onto Diego’s t-shirt, sobbing into his chest. Diego whispers in his ear, tells him fiercely not to say another word about Vanya, not to anyone, as he hears approaching footsteps of the search party drawing nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any theories as we head into the final chapter?? I'd love to know your thoughts!


	5. Above The City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego finds the answers he's looking for. Does he want them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we've made it to the end. Warning for disgustingly indulgent use of Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. 
> 
> I'd love to know what you think, it means the world to me to read your amazing comments! Thank you for those who have supported this along the way, and I really hope you enjoy. <3

Diego feels like his legs are about to give way underneath him when he sees Luther carry Klaus away. The skinny teenager looks even tinier than usual, slung like a sack of garbage across his mountain of a brother’s shoulder, and Diego feels completely and utterly adrift with panic as Klaus head slumps down against Luther’s broad back, eyes numb and haunted.

Panic is an unfamiliar feeling for him, these days. It reminds him of times he’d long since tried to forget, when he still cared enough to give a damn about the horrors he plays witness to on the regular.

“Son,” Reginald says, and Diego forces himself to turn, to see Reginald trekking towards him, ushering him down a passageway entirely in the opposite direction to Luther and Klaus’s retreating figures. “Thank you for finding him. For your loyalty. The silly whore really thought he could escape. I’m so pleased you rose to the challenge.”

 _Challenge?_ Diego thinks, a little confused about the word choice. But Reginald speaks a lot like that - flowery, figuratively. It might not have been a test to begin with, but it ended as one, and Diego passed with flying colours.

Or at least, Reginald thinks he did.

Because he doubts his father would be too impressed by his final words to the boy, knowing it was too late for them to get out, and therefore knowing Klaus needed to be smart now in order to survive.

“ _Don’t tell anyone about Vanya. Don’t try to escape unless it’s with me. I’ll get you out of here. Just wait. I promise._ ”

He’s still trying to process his thoughts from the earlier meeting with Klaus’s father, but something about seeing this beautiful, broken boy falling apart at the seams as he spoke about the ghost of the girl he’d been brought into replace… there’s nothing Diego wants to do more than simply get him _out_ of here, to cut through the bullshit, and find something real.

He has to believe Klaus’s love for him - the love he sees every time he looks at Diego - is real.

For now, though, he feels sluggish, winded, the events of the day mounting up on him like rubble. The violence of Klaus’s father shooting himself, measured with the way Luther had pulled Klaus up and crushed his neck in his hand until Five had told him to stop, that Reginald would want him alive - all of those pathways begin to dim in his hyper-focused brain, until he’s left with a feeling of emptiness.

He wants Klaus. He wants to be with him, to hold him tangibly, to cup his face roughly in his hands and kiss it and bite it and claim it until everybody knows who he belongs to. But he also knows he has to keep a clear head now, for his own sanity, and for Klaus’s survival.

“Are you going to hurt the boy?” he brings himself to ask. _Like you hurt Vanya_ , he isn’t allowed to add.

Reginald chuckles softly. “He’ll be dealt with appropriately. We wouldn’t want to mark his pretty face just yet, would we?”

Diego nods in agreement, imagining Klaus with bruises to his ass cheeks, to his arms, between his… his legs.

“I’ll make sure I make it painful for him, when I take his virginity,” he promises Reginald. “He tried to escape, that makes it personal now.”

But a promise isn’t a promise if you’ve decided to kill the man you’re making it to. Diego crosses his fingers behind his back and smiles like a grateful child when Reginald kisses him proudly on the forehead.

 

* * *

 

It’s busy at the club tonight, and Diego knows perfectly well why. Tonight Klaus makes his _debut_ for Constantinople, and it’s pulled in a crowd of mostly men, some open-minded women, and a fog of dark excitement that bounces off the cavernous walls and buries itself deep into the pit of his stomach.

It’s also the night he fights Luther, and potentially the night he gets to fuck Klaus for the first time, depending on how quickly Reginald wants to do  _that_.

The amount of anticipation that’s built up over the course of the evening has made Diego a little... well, nervous.

For now, he huddles at the back of the crowd building around the performance stage that the whores take to in order to work the pole. There’s rumors circulating as to who will win the auction, but nobody seems to have a clear take on it. He hears names mentioned - names of filthy rich men who Diego has met in the past, clapping him on the back jovially as they make transparently racist comments about Reginald’s _rainbow_  family - one of every colour - but Diego knows with a certain degree of satisfaction that they’re all going to be disappointed.

Soon enough, Reginald appears on stage, a mild smile stretching his features, and holds up a hand to indicate silence. Nobody commands a crowd like Reginald Hargreeves, and conversations drop away to nothing in less than a second.

“Ladies. Gentlemen. Welcome.” He narrows his eyes theatrically, leaning forward as he looks out into the crowd. “My, my! Aren’t there a lot of you tonight? What could possibly be the reason for it, I wonder?” he muses, as the crowd breaks into peals of laughter. Someone yells, “ _The new whore_ ,” and Reginald’s smile turns vaguely sadistic.

“Indeed. And what a treat he is, our lovely new whore. Those who have been bidding for the right to strip him of his chastity have already been given some visual access to him and are thirsty for more. Tonight, though, you will all enjoy the treat I have prepared for you. And one lucky bidder will enjoy a truly _priceless_ experience by the end of the night.”

 _And it really is priceless,_ Diego thinks, as the audience begins to murmur in anticipation. _Not one man in here is going to be able to afford it, because there’s no price Reginald would consider at this point._

The old man is clever, though. He’s still planning to get his hands on at least some of the fortune his wealthy audience have stashed away in offshore accounts. “As all bidders are aware, there is a base fee to even _enter_ this auction, so confident am I in the quality of the product I am selling.” He pauses, leers a little. “When you see this little virgin slut in action, you will agree, he is worth every investment you can afford in order to get your hands on him.”

There’s no inkling of dissent from the crowd, despite Diego knowing the base fee will have been set at a sizeable amount. He feels his temples throbbing at the blatant duplicity he’s witnessing, and is privy to. He could _destroy_ Reginald, easily, if only he knew how to prove it.

“And now, without any further ado, it’s time for me to step aside and let you enjoy the _real_ reason you’re all here tonight.”

The room falls silent, the lights go down on the stage. Diego feels his breath hitch, heart beating rapidly in his chest as Reginald’s footsteps disappear from the side of the stage. And then:

Music starts playing. Diego grimaces a little when he recognises it. Reginald has always had a thing for bad 80s power ballads, and now _Holding Out For a Hero_ by Bonnie Tyler kicks in as impossibly long legs decked out in white stripper heels come into view first, the spotlight lengthening, travelling upwards, as Klaus reaches the pole.

_Where have all the good men gone_

_And where are all the gods?_

He’s dressed in a white lace babydoll nightie and a veil, a parody of a wedding night. The veil covers his face, his body the sole focus of attention in that moment, and Diego takes the time to drink in the creamy skin, largely unmarked (for all of Reginald's posturings about punishments, he clearly knew half the appeal was in this untouched, beautifully smooth skin), the small dip of his waist and the fabric clinging to his pert ass.

Diego immediately feels blood rushing to his cock, as he takes a deep breath to adjust. Judging from some of the groaning going on in front of him, he’s not the only one affected.

_Late at night I toss and I turn_

_And I dream of what I need_

Diego has no control of himself as he fights his way to the front of the crowd to get a better look. Klaus has begun to move, awkwardly, skittishly, like a foal learning to walk. _Bambi_ , he thinks, with a smile, remembering the nickname he’d given the kid when he’d first met him. It doesn’t even matter that he can’t dance for shit - in fact, it only seems to be making the crowd more desperate for him.

_I need a hero_

_I'm holding out for a hero_

_'til the morning light_

The boy grasps the pole and attempts to hoist himself up, skinny arms not giving him the support he needs. He glances over his shoulder sheepishly and beside Diego, someone yells out, “ _Come swing on my dick instead, baby_.” He makes sure to jostle him extra hard as he continues his journey to the front row.

_Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat_

_It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet_

He makes it just in time for Klaus to throw the veil off, and if the reaction to his body had been intense, the reaction to his face gives Diego genuine anxiety that he’s going to be crushed by the surging crowd. All around him he hears and feels people clambering like animals, trying to get over the boundaries of the stage as the security detail push them back aggressively.

Klaus’s face is perfectly made up, a blushing virgin on his wedding night. His hair is soft and loose, pushed forward so that the curls dip over his forehead and over one eye. He looks like an angel, but he also looks terrified, and it’s _doing_ things to Diego, things that make him no better than the guys hollering next to him.

_Through the wind and the chill and the rain_

_And the storm, and the flood_

_I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood_

Klaus dances terribly, awkwardly, but his expression is entirely unfamiliar to Diego in that moment. He’s wild-eyed, other-wordly, but more than that he seems utterly committed to performing to the best of his ability. It’s an intoxicating mix, and if Diego thought he was in love with Klaus before, he knows he is now. He sees what their father must see, too, whenever he looks at Klaus: this perfect vision of youth, condensed into a yielding, submissive body.

As the song starts to approach its end, Klaus’s eyes lock on Diego, and Diego feels himself shudder, not with revulsion, but with pain, at the desperation he sees in them. This performance - all of it - is not a spell weaved by a rare and dangerous siren. It’s an appeal, a last plea for help, and Diego takes a couple of steps back, gasping with realisation at how high the stakes have become.

_I need a hero_

_I'm holding out for a hero_

_'til the end of the night_

_He's gotta be strong_

_and he's gotta be fast_

_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight_

As the song finishes, and the crowd stamp their feet, creating a tidal wave of noise that threatens to reach right up to the world above them, Reginald and an auctioneer join Klaus on stage. It takes all of Reginald’s effort to calm them down.

Diego doesn’t remember much after that; there’s a flurry of bids, at least two punch ups… mostly he remembers Klaus frozen in place as a ‘mystery’ bidder swoops in at the last minute, Reginald’s voice hinting at just the right amount of shock and surprise, even as his eyes shine obsidian under the stage lights.

It’s done, quickly, and then it’s followed by a predictable sense of anticlimax. There’s murmurings from the crowd, people demanding to know who this mystery bidder is, calling for Reginald to discount it. They want to _know_ , of course they do: they want to see the boy stood next to his imminent defiler, want to vicariously imagine themselves stood there in the same position.

But of course Reginald, the king of diversion, has a solution to that, and he begins to explain the terms the ‘winner’ has set out.

“The winner of tonight’s fight, between two fighters you all know and respect - Luther and Diego - will be tasked with taking the whore’s virginity. Our silent bidder wishes only for the simple pleasure of watching this take place, at the hands of one of my strapping sons. He has also specified the video may be made available afterwards for those so inclined to watch secondhand.” Reginald smiles. “For a price, of course.”

It goes some way to abating the crowd. All around him, Diego feels men slapping him on the back, telling him, “ _Good luck, you’re going to need it_ ,” but all Diego can do is keep his eyes on Klaus’s desperate, tearful face as his eyes burn into Diego’s with a desperation that looks like it could tear him apart.

 _I’m going to save you_ , he promises, hoping Klaus can see the vow in his eyes. _I’m going to save you from all of this. Tonight._

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t remember much about getting back to his dressing room, and then out to the cage. The crowd feel like a pack of wolves tonight, baying for blood hungrily, angrily, and all Diego can think is _It’s a good thing Luther is throwing this, because my head is_ not _in the right place._

That turns out to be… famous last words, or thoughts. Whatever. It definitely _doesn’t_ go as he’s expecting.

Five minutes into the fight, he realises Luther isn’t going to make this easy on him. His older brother easily wins the first round, pinning Diego against the ground for ten seconds, strong hands basically able to crush his neck. Diego can’t even question what the _hell_ Luther is playing at, not with their audience pressing up on the sides of the octagon, their voices hoarse as they scream encouragement at Luther.

“I give!” Diego chokes out, slapping Luther’s beefy shoulder. Luther pulls away, smirking, and Diego has to catch himself when he reflectively tries to shoot a look of betrayal. When they next come in to shake hands, he whispers, “What the fuck?”

But Luther just spits on the ground, already limbering up for round two.

Diego wins this one but it’s close. He’s better at boxing, always has been, but Luther’s superior weight, height and strength make him near unbeatable when it comes to wrestling. So Diego gets his head back in the game long enough to charge aggressively, aiming for the stomach, which he knows is Luther’s weakest point, before jabbing him a few times in the face for good measure.

The crowd - fickle creatures that they are - are now hollering _Diego’s_ name as Luther goes down like a brick, yielding like a sapling in the wind when Diego applies pressure to his neck.

As he readies himself for the third and final round, he glances out into the crowd to see Reginald standing at the back, impossibly tall and stony-faced, a terrified looking Klaus beside him, gripping his hand. Diego glances across to see Luther looking too, his handsome face tightening, draining a little of colour.

 _Son of a bitch_ , Diego thinks. _He’s not going to throw this, is he?_

When they come together to shake hands, he just says one word this time. “ _Allison_.” But on reflection, it’s like a red rag to a bull. Luther is incandescent with rage, covering Diego’s body with his own, pummeling his face until he feels his nose break with a harsh _crack_. He gasps in pain, shaking his head.

“You need to yield!” Luther growls down at him. “I don’t want to fucking kill you like this, man.”

 _No no no_ , Diego thinks. _I won’t let you do this to Klaus. I won’t_. He takes the only option he has to get out of this hold; he brings his knee up, hitting Luther squarely in the balls, and then retreats to the edge of the cage after scrabbling out from under Luther’s weight.

It starts up again - Luther looks over to Reginald, then back at Diego, and charges, and Diego skirts to the side but isn’t quick enough to clear it, grunting when his older brother grabs him from behind and brings his biceps across his windpipe, digging in.

“Say you give,” Luther screams at him. “Just fucking _say_ it.”

Diego looks at Klaus - his small hand clasped in Reginald’s, his face streaked with tears. They approach the stage, Reginald ready to hand the boy over to his victor. _I can’t, I can’t let him win_ , Diego thinks. He fights again, tries to get out of it, and Luther crushes harder.

Klaus mouths one thing at him: _Please don’t die._

He’s still focusing on trying to do just that as darkness closes in and he blacks out of consciousness.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up to Allison and Ben’s worried faces hovering above him, his head feeling like soggy cotton wool stuffed into a vague resemblance of a ball. His first thought is _Klaus_ , his second is _I’m going to kill Reginald_. Each of these thoughts are as clear as each other, but the rest of him feels amorphous, and he tries to focus on the damage that Luther did.

Tentatively he reaches up to his neck, wincing when he feels bruises there. It’s by far the most painful area, currently. His hands then ghost his nose, where he finds a bandage soaked through. He tests each part of his body, finds only pain, but it’s manageable. Tomorrow, when it’s truly settled into his muscles, it will be a different story.

“You’re such an idiot,” Ben tells him. “Why the fuck didn’t you just give in?”

“We had a deal. He was meant to throw the match.”

Allison sighs, reaching out to pat his hair down gently. “You know Luther obeys father, above all things. He would never have agreed to that.”

“He _did_!” Diego says. “I had… I had something on him. Something big. And now he’s spat in my face, so what am I supposed to do? I have to-” He tries, but feels the familiar old stutter creeping back in. “H-h-have t-t-t-to…”

She’s a good person, Allison. She bends down to kiss his forehead, tells him it’ll be okay, that he doesn’t need to punish himself any further.

She’s… too good to drag into this. Diego knows what will happen if he tells her the truth, about the secrets Luther is willing to keep, to enable, for their _father_. He knows that she’ll be out for blood. And ultimately, he now knows what Reginald is capable of, even when it comes to his _children_.

“I have to get out of here,” he says, deciding on the only option he has has left. He lunges out of bed. “I have to find him.”

“Diego, please, think about this! I know you think you love him, but this is obsession, not love. You have a family, a father who can give you anything you want. Just this _one_ thing, just one thing, you can’t have, but when it’s done-”

“No,” he says, evading Ben’s insistent hands circling his wrists to cut Allison off. “I have _nothing_. And I don’t want it. Any of it. Just Klaus. It isn’t obsession, it  _is_ love. Fuck Reginald Hargreeves. Fuck you, both of you. And fuck this goddamn poisonous family for-”

He hears a click of a gun, the safety being taken off, and the barrel pressed against his head.

“You’re _such_ an idiot,” Allison says, tears streaming down her face, as Ben presses the gun in from behind. “You failed the test, goddamn you, Diego. You fucking failed it.”

There’s a blunt force to his head, and he crumples like paper to the floor.

 

* * *

 

He comes to for the second time that night. He’s in a chair, arms tied to it. The family is facing him. All of them. Klaus is still in his white dress, his makeup blurred around his eyes and mouth, perched on the side of Reginald’s chair like a pet. Diego’s heart beats faster at the sight of him, even though something is telling him _wrong, something is wrong_.

Then he starts to chuckle a little, at the absurd thought that they’ve just been sat here, watching, waiting, for him to wake up. God, he hopes he fucking took his time.

“What a disappointment you turned out to be,” Reginald says with a sigh. “A _profound_ disappointment. A basic honeytrap to test your loyalty, and you failed on almost every hurdle.”

Diego looks at Klaus, and Klaus looks back at him, ghostly pale, trembling, and Diego finally _gets_ it.

Klaus’s father hadn’t lied to him. Not once. But Klaus… beautiful, innocent little Klaus… has apparently been lying this whole time.

“The truth is, your attitude has concerned me for years. Ever since your _fleeting_ visit to the airport, I knew you were a loose canon. One I’d hoped to tame. I prayed every day that you would grow out of it, that you would come to see how fortunate you were to be chosen by me. Reginald Hargreeves. I do not pick and choose lightly. I seek out the best, and you were _good_ , Diego. A strong fighter, quick-witted, precise, accurate, handsome, charming - all the things I value in a son.”

“You hearing this?” Diego says to Luther, his throat hoarse. “Dad thinks I’m better looking than you.”

Luther ignores him. It should probably worry Diego that he’s not rising to the bait.

“And the fact of the matter is, Diego, I almost can’t blame you. After all, he really is perfect.  Young and beautiful and spirited. Someone you can enjoy breaking, repeatedly, until he spreads his legs and accepts his true purpose; why he was put on this Earth,” Reginald continues, his long fingers disappearing in between Klaus’s thighs, smiling as Klaus squirms uncomfortably. “I’d have had my doubts, too, if I were in your position. But as my son, you should have been aware of your priorities. If you can betray us for a pretty face, a tight hole, well, we’re not really a family to you, are we?”

“I don’t _want_ to be part of this fucked up ‘family’ anymore. That’s what you don’t get. It wasn’t just about him. It was _everything_ . You make me sick. I know what you did and it makes me _sick_.”

Reginald falters a little at that, but then he’s distracted by Klaus letting out a small little sob. Diego watches, horrified, as Reginald grasps the boy’s chin and pulls him down, pressing a wet kiss to his lips. “Testing your loyalty makes me sick? Pretending I was going to watch as Luther fucked him - as if I would _ever_ let anyone touch him before me - makes you sick? Well, when I tell you that I plan to marry him, that he was never a _son_ to me, but my future wife, will that make you _sick_ , too?”

Diego looks around at each of his siblings then - they all look ashamed of themselves, embarrassed, but none of them look horrified. _It really all was just an act_ , Diego realises. _Allison’s disgust, Five leaving him with me that night, Ben pretending he shouldn’t be giving me information… it was all just an act_.

“So you’re all going to watch as father takes a child bride? What about Grace, huh? Our _mom_? Have we forgotten about her?”

“Grace has agreed to a quiet divorce, a generous settlement. She will still be cared for under my umbrella. We are a happy, prosperous family, Diego,” Reginald informs him. Diego laughs again, and it sounds maniacal to his ears.

“He’s _sixteen_!”

“He’s old enough to make his own decisions,” Allison says uncomfortably. “He wants to be here. He told us all, when he came. He isn’t some innocent kid.”

Diego finally forces himself to look at Klaus for more than a few seconds. The boy is still trembling, and Diego wonders how someone who looks like that, who talks and moves and smiles and giggles like that, was capable of such an ugly, treacherous _lie_.

“I want to hear him say that,” he says. “Before you kill me, which I know is going to happen, I want to hear this little _whore_ admit it was all just an act.”

They all turn to look at Klaus, who looks to Reginald first, as if for permission. His husband-to-be nods his head, and Klaus looks over at Diego, before taking a deep breath.

“The truth is, Diego..." he starts, and Diego hardens himself, ready to hear it, to die angry, cursing this hired whore out with his dying breath. "The truth is, Diego, I’m in love with you.”

The reaction is instantaneous; Reginald grabs Klaus round the neck, pulling him into his lap. A sharp knife is at his hands before anyone has time to react. Reginald never carries guns - calls them _uncouth_ , and there’s always someone near him with a gun - but his skill with a knife matches Diego’s own. Many men have died before they’d even realised it was in his hand.

“I told you. I told you the consequences if you defied me. Now it’s time for me to make a phonecall, I think. Have your father put out of his misery.”

“Too late,” Diego says. He sees Klaus look across at him in horrified realisation, and he hates himself for breaking it to him so callously, but he also needs Klaus to get angry, to _survive_. “He shot himself. I’m sorry, Klaus. I’m so sorry.”

Just as Diego had hoped, Klaus composes himself quickly, preservation instinct kicking in as he takes advantage of Reginald’s pause to recalibrate what Diego’s just told them. Klaus forces the knife away from Reginald and throws it across the room to Diego. It falls short, and Diego starts to shift his chair subtly towards it, the others still focused on Klaus. His small hands come out to swat at Reginald’s face, putting distance between them. “He’s dead because of _you_ ,” he tells Reginald. "You told me I had to lie to him, that I had to tell him I was happy to go, and he couldn't _stand_  it! I  _knew_ he wouldn't be able to."

He scrabbles out of the old man’s lap, hitting the floor with a small bump. Around him, Five and Luther spring to their feet, guns pulled out, but Klaus doesn’t seem to care as he continues to stare Reginald down fiercely.

“You think I wanted to do this? That I wanted to _marry_ you?” he asks Reginald, disgusted. “I wanted money, that’s it. Money to get me and my father the hell away from here. Money to keep us both safe from you. But I played it too well, didn’t I? I made _you_ believe you could control me, but I made him believe it too, and now he’s gone, and I’m still here, and I’m in love with your son, which is… predictable, because he’s the only normal one out of this weird incestuous family, so of course you all want to kill _him_ now. Well, I’ve got _nothing_ to lose, so fuck you all.”

Luther is looking at Reginald pleadingly, needing direction as to what to do next, but Reginald, for the first time in his life, looks utterly speechless. Klaus uses his ongoing silence to speak to Diego next, who is still trying to get close enough to the knife to kick it up.

“Diego, I _thought_ it was going to be easy, that I’d just get the money and run. But I fell for you, and it complicated everything. So if you have one takeaway from this _ridiculous_ shitshow, before we die, know that I really did want you to save me, by the end. I wanted to be with you, and this weird little crime mafia didn’t deserve your loyalty anyway.”

Reginald rises slowly from his chair, and walks over to Klaus’s prone body, backed up against Five’s legs. “I’ll make him watch as we kill you first, I think,” he says. “That would be fitting.”

“Kill me like you did Vanya?” Klaus asks, and Diego lets out a small, pained noise that barely sounds like him. Klaus has just guaranteed a more violent death, and with no proof, it won’t even make a difference. The others will never believe him.

“What did you just say?” Five asks. He grabs Klaus by the shoulder, dragging him around to face him, and Diego could cry at his predictable nature. “How _dare_ you use her name to get out of your own stupid mess. She was innocent! Father would never stoop that low. How _dare_ you accuse him of-" 

But then Klaus starts talking, and suddenly, Five isn't acting quite as predictably anymore.

“She says she misses eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with you after her night shift,” Klaus says. Five looks at him, blinking, and the faces around him mirror Diego’s own confusion. _Huh?_ “The last time you had one together, you talked about where you’d live, if you could live anywhere. She said she’d pick a place far out among the trees, near a lake. You said you’d be happier with no home, just money, and she laughed at you for that.”

“Okay...” Five says, trying to keep up. Then he suddenly backs away from Klaus, as though he’s been stung through by a hornet’s nest. “What the _fuck?_ ”

“Allison, she wants to say thank you again for helping her that night, with… Leonard? She says that only the best sisters would help you hide a body. She wanted you to know how much she loved you. That you and Five were the only ones who kept her sane here.”

“B-body…?” Luther asks. “What the _fuck_ , Allison?”

“Some guy was giving her hassle. One of the regulars. Leonard. She… she killed him,” Allison murmurs, her eyes far off someplace. “We drove his body out to the valley, buried him there. Nobody knew about it.”

She scrapes back her chair, approaching Klaus cautiously.

“You’re saying she’s dead? That you can see her… talk to her? Can you see her _now?_ ”

Klaus nods, and all Diego can do is hold his breath, hoping nobody acts irrationally, in this goddamn irrational-as-fuck situation. “Ask her what her last words to me were,” she demands. “ _Now_ , Klaus. It’s important.”

Klaus listens, then nods, takes a deep breath. “She told you she thought she was in love. She was going to tell you who. But then _he_ came in,” he says, looking hatefully at Reginald, “and took her away. It was the last time you ever saw her. He took her down to the sewers to kill her.” He looks back at Five and says sadly, “It was you. She was in love with you.”

It’s enough. Five finally re-aims his gun, at Reginald this time. “Why did he kill her?” he asks, his voice sounding very far away as Diego starts to understand just how much he’s underestimated this weird little freak of a (beautiful) kid.

“Because he…” Klaus sounds sick. “He just... no longer had any need for her. He told her he had a more suitable replacement.” His voice breaks a little, and it’s the most heartbreaking thing Diego has ever heard. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Diego says, not really wanting to draw attention to himself, as he finally gets to the knife and flips it up with his foot. He needs to say it, though, and nobody is looking at him anyway. “Klaus, this _wasn’t_ your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Klaus says again, but Allison shakes her head.

“Diego is right. You have _nothing_ to apologise for. We were the ones who enabled this, who didn’t question it when Vanya disappeared and you appeared, alongside this masterplan father had outlined for us. _Fuck,_  we really were blind.”

She hands out her hand to Luther, who is taking all of this in with the expression of a five year old trying to learn his times table. “Give me the gun, Luther.”

“Huh?”

“Give it to me.”

“Allison-”

He breaks when he sees her face, angry and beautiful and shining with righteous fury. Diego cuts through his ropes as Reginald starts to back away, beady eyes darting to the door as if he’s going to be able to outrun this.

Five and Allison both turn their guns to Reginald. Allison shoots hers first.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, as they stare down at his dead body, all six of them, Diego thinks about how small, how old, this man really looks. Klaus goes down on his knees, leans forward, and whispers, “Don’t even _think_ about haunting me, you gross ugly pervert.”

If Reginald’s ghost hears it, he’s probably too gobsmacked to respond. 

 

* * *

 

It turns out, the Hargreeves name really does inspire awe and respect wherever you go. As a potential killer of the notorious Hargreeves’s patriarch? Diego is now more feared than Reginald ever was. So are his brothers and sister - even quiet little Ben. It’d be hilarious, if it wasn’t so fucked up.

He leaves them to decide what happens next. He doesn’t want the club, not when he already has the old man’s most prized possession sitting angelically by his side. Before he goes, though, he tells them to go fuck themselves - regardless of their actions at the end, they were still willing to sit by and watch him be murdered for his so-called _disloyalty_. It feels pretty good to say that out loud. It feels even better to carry a beaming Klaus out from under the ground and into the rosy morning light, laughing as Klaus tells him proudly, "I saved _you_ , Diego."

They drive South, hit the US-Mexico border within a couple of days, and stroll through easily once Diego has greased the palms with enough cash to halt any awkward questions on the location of Klaus’s documentation.

He’d had to travel to Mexico City regularly in the past, as Reginald had an ongoing supply of dealers here. It’s an easy journey for him, but he’s still nervous.

He doesn’t need to be. News has already reached them by the time he arrives, Klaus tucked up safely in the boot of the car away from prying eyes. The cartel treat him like a brother when he assures them they’ll still get regular trade opportunities. He knows that Five will take ownership of the club. Ben won’t want it, neither will Allison. And where she goes, Luther will follow.

Diego thinks he can probably work out a professional understanding with Five. So long as it’s not Luther, he’ll cope.

If Klaus is intimidated by any of this, he doesn’t show it. In fact he still seems pretty much resigned to dying.

“I _did_ lie to you,” he tells Diego, as he settles down into bed in an luxury property Reginald owned in Condesa. His voice is entirely matter-of-fact. “Repeatedly. In your weird little moral code, you’d probably be justified in shooting me, you know. 

“Why did you fall in love with me?” Diego asks, and Klaus sighs, rolling his eyes up to the heavens dramatically.

“Because you cared. It was so obvious you cared. Not just about me, but about people. _Things_. I thought for sure that all of Reginald’s family would be rapists, murderers and assholes.”

“I’ve definitely been two of those things.”

“Mileage may vary on the asshole thing,” Klaus reminds him. “I’m _sensitive_ , don’t you know? Good at reading people. Amongst my many talents.” He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Diego pins him back on the bed, cock hardening as Klaus squeals underneath him.

“Are you sure that Luther didn’t hit this up while I was unconscious,” Diego asks, fingers snaking in between Klaus’s asscheeks. “Tell me. You can tell me. I won’t get mad. I mean, I will, but not at you, at-”

“For the hundredth time, Diego, _no_ , he didn’t hit it. He was never _meant_ to hit it. That was all…” he trails off, suddenly embarrassed. “You know.”

“Part of the lie?”

“Yeah.” Klaus looks unbearably sad for a moment, and Diego leans forward, trying to kiss it away. “That’s why… like I said… it’d probably be justified if you wanted to ki-”

“ _Don’t_ say it,” Diego warns him, a finger on those pretty lips. “Just tell me you were a dumb little bimbo who couldn’t possibly say no to the big bad mobster boss. Massage my ego a little bit, slut.”

Klaus sighs, pouting a little. “I _did_ have a good reason. You know I did.”

Diego nods. “I know a little something about loyalty to fathers,” he says. “Of course, I _broke_ that, as soon as I met you, so...”

“Your father was an asshole! And not even your real father! Mine is… was…” Diego sees the pain flash across that pretty face, and he _aches_. “He was a good person. And Reginald knew that, and manipulated me into thinking I was doing this to save him. I literally said to dad that it would be alright, that I was going to work for Reginald but I was happy. Such an _idiot_ ,” he says, shaking his head sharply. “Maybe it would have made the pain less if I’d gone out kicking and screaming, which is what I wanted to do. Maybe then he wouldn’t have thought I was leaving him _happily_ , for a man that he knew was dangerous.”

“If you’d done that, your father would have died sooner, just by someone else’s hand. At least this way he got to go on his own terms.”

“Yeah,” Klaus says softly. “I guess there is that.”

“So… what parts _were_ real?” Diego has to know some of the detail behind this elaborate story, woven to push him to his limits, by his own family, and also by this kid who is apparently a damn good actor - just another one of those  _talents_ he's bragged about.

“Not much. I really was planning on running that night I discovered Vanya, I thought it’d be safer for both of us, that you wouldn’t be in as much danger if I wasn’t around. I thought maybe Reginald would forget about the  _test_ , because he’d be so angry about losing me. But then _she_ appeared and I lost it. I’ve never felt anyone’s presence so… so fully. It was like walking into a nightmare.”

“And the way you looked at me, when you were performing? That wasn’t acting?”

“That _wasn’t_ acting,” Klaus confirms, smiling. “I mean, was the song choice not enough for you to get that?”

“That was _your_ choice?” Diego laughs. “What the fuck, Klaus?!”

“I’ve never been the most subtle of communicators,” the kid says proudly, before lifting his face up for a kiss. Diego acquiesces, pressing small butterflies kisses all over his cheeks, his eyes, the bridge of his nose, before finally landing on his lips. He feels Klaus squirm under him, a different sort of movement - not scared, but inquisitive, and Diego slips his hand up under the short skirt Klaus is wearing.

“No panties?” he asks, and Klaus blinks up at him with a nervous facial tic.

“I think I’m ready.”

Diego feels something primal twist inside of him at Klaus’s needy little voice, his wide, hopeful eyes. “I think _I’ll_ be the judge of that,” he growls, and he pushes two of his fingers into Klaus’s mouth, instructing him to, “Get them wet.” Klaus does, enthusiastically sucking on the length of them, small smile adorable as he looks to Diego for approval. Then Diego brings them out with a _pop_ , bringing them back under the flipped up skirt.

It’s as tight as he’s been expecting, and he can’t resist crowing a little, “Knew I’d be the first one in here, from the moment I saw you. Just me. Always going to be me now, right?” Klaus nods, reverentially, then bucks his small hips as Diego pushes in a little deeper.

“Feels good,” he whispers, and Diego laughs.

“Just wait ‘til you have the real thing in there, Bambi.”

He strips Klaus’s top off, leaving the skirt where it is because it’s cute as hell. His own body is a wasteland of bruises from the fight with Luther; he’s patched it up as good as he can but he knows from his broken nose that his face isn’t as pretty as it used to be. Still, Klaus doesn’t seem to care that much, gently tracing his hands over it like a kid with a new toy, before Diego undresses completely and reaches for some lube.

“This might hurt you,” Diego warns him, as he pulls away for a moment. “I’m not going to stop, because I figure you’re a whiny little brat who will try and get out of it at the first sign of pain. But I’ll go as slow as I can.”

“So romantic,” Klaus snits, rolling his eyes. “I’m truly unworthy.”

 _God, I love you_ , Diego thinks. Once he’s halfway in, Klaus whining and whimpering underneath him, fingernails pressing into the flesh of Diego’s neck, he thinks it again. _I really fucking love you_. He won't tell him, though, not yet. He doesn't want the kid to think he's going soft.

Klaus’s legs are spread, head thrown back, chest rising and falling rapidly as he withstands the pain. Then Diego feels himself bottoming out, cock fully sheathed, and he groans with approval at how well Klaus takes it.

“That’s it, baby, that’s your virginity. Gone. Easy as that. And the best part is, the more you get fucked, the more you’re gonna want to be fucked, because you’re such a good little slut. Made for this.” He’s not sure if he’s making that much sense, as he whispers filth into Klaus’s ear, beginning to speed his small thrusts up. “I’m going to keep you full constantly. My beautiful little gangster wife. Gonna fill you up with the good stuff every morning and every night, keep you tied to this bed, apart from when I want my men to see you, to lust after you, to want you but not have you.”

Klaus is nodding, agreeing to anything, as Diego’s thrusts become longer, rougher. “Gonna buy you nice panties, little lace crop tops, cute little bikinis for lounging around the pool. Expensive perfume, makeup. Only the best for you.”

“Yes… _daddy…_ ” Klaus says, experimentally, a little embarrassed, and Diego laughs, slapping his hand over Klaus’s mouth.

“Uh-uh-uh. We’re in Mexico now, Bambi. What do we say?”

“ _Papi_ ,” Klaus whispers, “Yes, Papi, please,” he moans, and Diego laughs as Klaus’s small cock unloads on his stomach, his cheeks colouring beautifully.

“Good, baby, such a good boy. Making your _Papi_ proud, huh?”

Klaus nods, still high from his climax, his ass so goddamn _tight_ as it clamps around Diego’s cock, way too intensely for Diego’s balls to not receive the signal that it’s _go time_.

He knows Klaus is full and content by the time he finally pulls out. There’s so much of it, he sees it drip down from Klaus’s overworked hole onto the bedsheets below. Klaus is looking at him like he’s the goddamn sun, exhausted and tremulous but still reverent, and Diego knows he’d kill for this kid, a thousand times over.

There's so much to think about... territory to claim, reputation to be built up, underworld connections to be made. But even more importantly, he needs to start putting Klaus back together after everything he's been through; there's his dead father to emotionally bury, his  _abilities_ (which honestly terrify Diego a little) to train, and the psychological scars that Reginald left to heal.

But at least they're together now, with nobody to divide and conquer them. It's a start.

He traps him in his arms, and Klaus leans back into them, head tilted back to balance on Diego’s shoulder.

“I should go soon,” Diego tells him. “Get back to work.”

“Work?” Klaus looks back at him, pouting. “I thought you said you were going to be king down here.”

“I am. But a king always needs to be making moves Forging friendships. Learning about his enemies.”

“I can help you with the enemies side,” Klaus says. “The last time someone made an enemy of _me_ , I got his own children to kill him. And then I got fucked hard by his least favorite son.”

Diego’s jaw drops in amazement at the sheer _audacity,_ before he begins to laugh, his whole body shaking. Klaus giggles alongside him, eyes shining up at him brightly, and Diego reminds himself never to underestimate his boy again.


End file.
